


Veracity

by Nightjar_Patronus



Series: Veracity Verse [1]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: (Mostly) Happy Ever Afters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Basically my version of season 3, Fluff, I'm keeping this world open, Minor Character Death, Multi, Post-Canon, SEE CHAPTER SUMMARIES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS, Slow Burn, Torture, Veracity Verse, Well it is now, backstories, so many backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 330,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightjar_Patronus/pseuds/Nightjar_Patronus
Summary: Post Season 2: As the August 8 Cluster sets out to free Wolfgang from BPO, a woman with a secret conspires to reveal Sensates’ existence to a terrified world. Sensates are disappearing faster than ever as a new drug makes its way into the Archipelago. Meanwhile, a Cluster in alliance with BPO returns with a vengeance. Our heroes will fight alongside new allies as the fate of their species hangs in the balance. They may have won the first battle, but the war is just beginning.UNDER EDITING. You can expect additional descriptions and musings when necessary, and the occasional clarification of details, but there will be no plot changes, so don't be alarmed!





	1. I won’t stop until he’s dead

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Veracidad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208844) by [CompulsiveShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompulsiveShipper/pseuds/CompulsiveShipper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Veronika has a war plan, and the August 8 Cluster deals with their enemy.
> 
> “Tell me you have a war plan.”  
> “I have no plan. I have an enemy. And I won’t stop until he’s dead. Or I am.”  
> — From S2E5, “Fear Never Fixed Anything”
> 
> **TW for depictions of torture.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, and welcome!
> 
> Brace yourselves for impending feels and suspense! I outlined this story back when Sense8 was still cancelled and I wanted to make my own form of closure. I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
> 
> I’m beyond glad that we won ourselves a special, but it’s not gonna be out for another year, and I already finished plotting so… All my sensies out there, I hope you enjoy the story!

**June 28, 2017**

“It’s ready.”

Veronika Makarova glanced up from behind her desk, pausing in the middle of writing. Her eyes scanned the Headhunter who spoke: blond, middle-aged, broadly built. A jagged scar ran across his left cheek _—_ a souvenir from one of his captures. A mark of failure.

“Have you made contact with Milton?” she interrupted, clicking her black fountain pen shut. It was nearly midnight, and she was expecting an important call from Seoul.

Karl Pelzer suppressed a small shiver, a habit he did not get rid of despite having known the woman for years. Her steel blue eyes reminded him of the blade that had cut through and scarred his skin. He cleared his throat.

“Only a few seconds.” Karl's voice was gruff, his accent distinctly German. “Gorski was there. No one else. Then they injected him, and he was Blocked.”

“They found an injected form of the Blocker?” Veronika raised an eyebrow, impressed once again at the group of rogue Sensates she had admittedly underestimated. A mistake she never planned to repeat. 

“Yes.”

“Be more vigilant, the next time Milton makes contact. I will not have them slip from me so easily. I expect to have him back, and soon.”

Karl gave a small, stiff nod.

Veronika leaned back in her leather chair, her back against the drop-down window. The lights from the other office buildings in Southwark shone like stars, but from her office on the twenty-fifth floor, she felt as if she was above them all. 

“You said the St. Petersburg plan is ready to launch?” she asked.

“Yes.” 

She gave her indication of a smirk, the corners of her dark red lips quirking upwards for a brief second before pressing into a thin line. She leaned forward. On cue, Karl inched closer to her desk.

“Be ready in three days. I expect no delays.”

“Yes, madame.” 

Veronika sat back in her chair and pushed open the cap on her fountain pen with her right thumb. She flipped to a page in her planner and wrote in an impeccable cursive: _July 2nd. Nevsky Prospekt._

“Good day, Herr Pelzer.”

Karl took this as his cue to leave.

*

Wolfgang woke up to silence. He could tell the seven other voices in his head were still there, but they sounded as if they were separated from him by soundproof glass. All he could feel when he tried to reach out with his mind was a solid, cold barrier. _Good_. The further they were, the safer they’d be.

The footsteps in the hallway echoed off the walls. He counted three pairs of boots, hard soles, military grade. Based on Will’s deductions, that meant he was in an urban area. There was no sound of instruments hitting against a metal tray, no rustling of the hard plastic Hazmat suits. It would appear he was alone.

The Traceworks machine hummed next to him, announcing its presence with vibrations. (As if he could ever forget it was there.) It growled like a tiger trapped in a zoo, awaiting release, waiting to continue devouring its prey. Every day felt like it would be his last, but Wolfgang had always prided himself on his ability to withstand pain.

The ache in his chest was a constant growing throb. He drew a careful breath and his muscles spasmed. Instead of breathing out, he coughed, and his lungs clenched tightly in protest. He tried to open his eyes, but the whiteness of the ceiling was blinding, so he shut them tight and listened.

When the Hazsuits came, he noticed a change in the cadence of their footsteps. Their heels clapped against the marble floor in quick succession. He turned his head to the left and squinted, trying to see without being blinded by the fluorescent lights. A Hazsuit was swapping an emptied IV bag with a brand new one. His dosage was carefully measured, allowing no time for his Cluster-mates to slip in and deduce his whereabouts. 

If his throat weren’t so parched, he would have laughed. The meticulous IV timetable alone was enough to show how scared BPO was. The Hazsuit’s movements were tense, too. They jumped a little in surprise when they noticed him watching. He allowed himself a smirk. For the first time in days, he felt like the predator. 

_Whispers had interrogated him twice more after he’d given Kala away. He’d have gone and shocked himself with those paddles for putting her in danger, but his limbs were bound to the recliner. Nothing hurt him more than seeing her lying on the ground of the airport, glassy-eyed, bleeding. Broken. His only consolation was knowing Kala was still free. If something happened to her, a part of his mind would have snapped louder than a shot, even if he was fully sedated._

_Wolfgang Bogdanow might not always make the best decisions, but he always learned from his mistakes. So the second time the paddles pulsed against his chest, he had kept himself submerged underwater, in the depth of his favorite memory alone._

_He was fifteen, and he was swimming at the crack of dawn. There was no one else in the outdoor pool. The air around him was a crisp autumn chill, the way he liked it. He held his breath and sank deep into the water, trying to keep himself from resurfacing for as long as he could. Surrounded by the blue water, he relished in the solitude—_

_Then the pain from the electric current had yanked him back to the surface, and he had found himself staring into Whispers’ face._

_“Impressive, Wolfgang. But the water can’t keep you from me forever.”_

_“Maybe not. But I will fucking drown you in it, first chance I get.” He tried to keep his voice firm, but he sounded hoarse and shaky. Still, he gazed straight into Whispers’ eyes, and let the hatred he once embodied when he killed his father take over._

_Nonetheless, the day after that, Whispers had gotten close, too close, to finding Felix, when the memory of the pool brought forth another memory of him and Felix jumping into a lake naked on a dare. Thankfully he had managed to push away before the headhunter could take over his mind’s body. Next time, he knew he wouldn’t be so lucky next time._

_“The pain will break you soon if I don’t.” Whispers’ voice, steady as ever, masked disappointment._

Wolfgang hadn’t seen Whispers in days, now. Three days, maybe? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to think Sun gave him a piece of her mind, or Will shot him clean between his eyes and watched the life go out. But Wolfgang the optimist died on the same day as his mother. Perhaps Whispers was biding his time while Wolfgang was trapped in his cage.

And now, as the drowsiness brought forth by the tranquilizer kicked in, and his consciousness flickered in and out of focus, he heard the Hazsuits speak in hushed whispers, saw them gesturing wildly to each other, and concluded that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one breaking.

*

Hernando stared at the locked closet inside which Lito sat. The Speakeasy, they called it. Someone off Blockers would always be in there, a makeshift safe space they’d built to communicate without giving away their location. They hadn’t managed to get back in touch with Lito’s German friend— _Cluster-mate_ , he corrected himself—but they kept a rigorous schedule. He longed for the days when the three of them attending a party at Kit Wrangler’s house was the craziest story of their day. 

He recalled that time Lito called him on his way home, yelling about some crying Korean woman and a pain in his stomach he thought was a tumor, and wondered why he didn’t think there was more to it back then. He’d dismissed the episode as one of the many dramatic antics one would expect from Lito Rodríguez, the king of drama in and outside a movie set.

( _I was not crying_ , the woman in question, Sun, had replied with a glare when Lito introduced her at the airport. And then Lito pulled her into a bear hug and spoke to her in rapid Korean, while he and Dani stood there wondering what their lives had come to.)

And now Lito was trying to contact a German locksmith telepathically in a locked closet, and Will was opening the door to the first hostage’s room, fist raised and jaw firm.

Dani sat next to him on the couch facing the window and leaned her head on his shoulder. She looked at the bolted-down closet and sighed.

“It takes a while to get used to, but you’ll get there.” They snapped out of their trance and noticed Amanita standing in front of them with two cups of coffee.

“I don’t know how we can,” Dani confessed, taking the mugs from Amanita’s hands with a small thanks, and passed one to Hernando.

“It’s like FaceTime without a phone, but cooler,” Amanita said.

They thought about it.

“It feels like Lito has this… this secret life,” Hernando said. “I used to think I know him. And then he passes out and starts bleeding and refuses to go to the hospital, and then he insists that we go to London. _London_. And when he tried to explain it to us, we thought he was going crazy—”

“Maybe that’s why he waited so long to tell us,” Dani said in a small voice. Amanita put a hand over her shoulder and squeezed it in comfort as she sat down, careful not to spill the mug of coffee in her hand.

“—and then he was speaking six languages, and plotting to interrogate prisoners with people we didn’t even know he knew,” Hernando continued. “It’s all”—he gestured to everything around him, mattresses and sleeping bags strewn across the floor, scratch papers filled with notes in six languages scattered all over the big dining table. “I feel… It’s like… Like I’m stuck in one of the only movies I can’t analyze.”

“It’s like that telenovela we filmed where he had to play twins,” Dani said. 

“ _The Mirror Has No Heart_? The one with the good twin and the evil twin?” Amanita asked.

“Exactly!” Hernando agreed. “Lito’s living as two people. Except here we have ‘action movie star’ Lito, and ‘actually kidnaps people in a Hazmat suit’ Lito. I mean, yes, I know both Lito’s are my hero,” Hernando remarked with a blush, and Dani smiled a little, “but neither of them is invincible. I don’t want Lito to get hurt.”

“I think about the same thing with Noms every day. But that’s why we’re here.”

Hernando nodded. “I can see how you can get cocky, with all this”—he waved his hands around to search for the right word—“this _sharing_ thing. But access to more minds? It doesn’t give you superpowers.”

“Every Sensate needs a Sapien guardian or two.” Amanita stood up and patted Hernando on the shoulder. “We keep them grounded.”

Hernando nodded. And, before Amanita headed back into the kitchen, he asked, “So when you said they share one mind, Amanita, what exactly does that mean?”

“Well, based on what Noms told me, if one of them sees something, everyone else can see it too. Or if they feel something strongly enough, the rest of them might feel it too—when Noms first felt like that she thought she was going _crazy_ —” 

“So they share emotions?” Dani asked.

“Yeah. Like if one of them’s afraid, or angry, or excited… or aroused.” 

Dani pressed a hand against her mouth, eyes suddenly wide open. She let out a small squeal.

“A-a-aroused?” Hernando’s voice was hoarse.

“Oh yeah. Noms is _fucking amazing_ when she gets like that.” Amanita winked and got up, heading back into the kitchen to make another cup of coffee for a sleep-deprived Nomi currently asleep face down on the mattress in the corner. 

On the other side of the living room, Dani and Hernando gawked at each other. Then Hernando buried his face in his hands.

*

Milton kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling despite the intense swelling in his left eye, a testament to the Cluster’s frustration from the day before.

“Stop this nonsense, Will. It’s not me you should be fighting.” His voice, hoarse from dehydration, was steady as always. 

“You’re right,” Will said as he leaned over to look Milton in the eye. His usual defensive posture was gone, replaced by an air of nonchalance. “It’s not you that we’re fighting. You mean _nothing_ to us,” Lito said in Will’s body.

“In case you have forgotten—”

“Oh, right. You’re our bargaining chip. Hmm.” Will put on a tone of mock defeat as he walked away from the stretcher. “I guess you haven’t heard?”

“Do tell, Mr. Gorski. If you are Mr. Gorski.”

“I hate to break it to you.” Lito-in-Will ignored the comment. “But the Chairman said he no longer needs you. So since you’re stuck with us with no reason for BPO to get your sorry ass traded back to them, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Then Will was back in his field of vision, fist raised, aiming straight for the angry purple bruise on his jaw from a few days past. Milton suppressed a pained groan, but a whimper escaped as blood trickled down his chin.

“Either you tell us where he is, or we’ll make you. We’ll get an answer out of you one way or the other.”

When Milton opened his mouth again, blood was dribbling down his chin, but he spoke with his usual air of dignity. “You’ve never been a good liar, Will.” Milton tried to grin, too, but decided not to push it when he felt the muscles on his battered jaw protest. “I know you haven’t spoken to the Chairman.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“The real Chairman would never give up on me so easily.”

“Good pals, are you?”

“No, no,” Milton said with a dry chuckle. “You misunderstood.”

“Please, enlighten me.” 

Milton quirked his right eyebrow, the only one he could raise without pain. “I’m sure you’ve already been informed of the internal struggle inside BPO. The Sensates in BPO have their own agendas apart from the Sapiens, Will. If my procedures sound unethical to you, they are nowhere nearly as destructive as the plan put forth by the Sapiens.”

“So they _do_ have a greater purpose for this genocide.” The sarcasm was apparent in Will’s voice. “And here I thought they were killing us for fun.”

Milton ignored that last comment. “Mr. Gorski, if a headhunter like me is enough to drive you and your Cluster into hiding, the Chairman’s plans will destroy all of us. Your foolishness will be the end of _Homo sensorium_.”

“Sounds sinister,” Lito kept Will’s tone nonchalant, though both men suppressed a shudder after hearing that last revelation. “Why don’t you tell us more? We’ll need information if you wanna stop those Sapiens in time.”

“You really think you can stop BPO?” Milton gave a dry chuckle. “Please, don’t be a child, Will. A ragtag group of Sensates renegades, against the Chairman?”

“You’re one to talk,” Will glanced at his prisoner, bound by an array of belts and ropes on a stretcher, a stolen IV drip of saline attached to his left arm.

Milton laughed, as unnervingly as before. “Mark my words, Will. One rookie mistake is enough to end your Cluster for good.”

Will crouched down and looked him straight in the eye, their faces so close, their noses were almost touching. “Your concern’s real touching, Milt,” he said, spitting out the last _t_. “But like I’ve told you before, we’re not amateurs.”

With that said, Will walked away.

“These interrogations are getting you nowhere, Officer Gorski”—Whispers called before Will shut the door. “You know what you have to do to find Mr. Bogdanow.”

*

**June 29, 2017**

Wolfgang woke up to see a scarred face sneering down at him. 

The man crouching down to look into his face wore a simple black leather jacket and jeans. _Moderate climate, then_ , Wolfgang deduced. Or maybe this was a costume. But he’d apparently had this jacket for a long time: the ends of the sleeves were worn, the leather chipping away, and there were deep creases around the underarms and the collars. Were they in Europe?

“Good day, Wolfgang.” The man spoke in German, his accent distinctly Berliner, all too familiar to Wolfgang’s ears.

Unlike Whispers, who relished in taunts and ridicules and rhetorical questions, this Headhunter wasted no time before turning the dial. Wolfgang turned his head to his left and saw the arrow pointing to the highest voltage Whispers had used. The man took the paddles from a Hazsuit and pressed them hard against Wolfgang’s chest.

Wolfgang closed his eyes and submerged himself in the memory he used before, hoping the water can drown out his pain. But his body betrayed him. He convulsed hard against the shock. He clenched his teeth tight, suppressing a scream, and tasted something metallic. Warm blood was trickling down his chin from the corners of his mouth. He didn’t dare draw a breath in case he choked.

The shock stopped not long after it began, and Wolfgang noted to himself that the pain felt slightly dulled compared to last time. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that he was growing accustomed to torture. He tried to bring his mind back into the haven underwater, imagined blue water, crisp autumn air, stillness…

“Care to share a memory with me, Wolfgang?” The Headhunter in the leather jacket suddenly appeared next to him in the pool, his voice conveying none of the gurgling one would expect to hear if they were to see someone speak while underwater.

Wolfgang shut his eyes tight, the blue of the water fading away until only the cold and rippling sensation around him remained. He tried to ignore the intruder. Maybe if he couldn’t see him, he could convince himself the man wasn’t there?

Then a hand was slapping against his bare chest, and it was not a part of his memory, because in his memory his chest didn’t ache at the slightest hint of contact. The impact made him cough out. His blood sprinkled into the face of his torturer, who merely wiped it away with the back of his hand before punching Wolfgang in the chest again. He tried to bring himself back into the safety of being underwater, but instead of chlorine, all he could taste was the metallic tang of his blood.

Firm hands gripped his shoulders and shook him, slamming his back against the reclining chair. He panted. His blood was on the verge of trickling into his windpipe. 

“S-s-sto-o-p.” He gasped before coughing. _Please_ , he thought. _Please stop._

It stopped, and Wolfgang thought it was finally over. 

But then the man pressed his hand against his chest, his fingernails on the verge of digging into Wolfgang’s flesh, and Wolfgang felt a tingling sensation from where the fingertips pressed against his chest, the pain worming its way beneath his skin with every passing second. He felt a million tiny needles prodding at his lungs. A whimper escaped his tightly pursed lips. He choked. All he wished then was to get away from the pain, remove his physical body from that prison and transport himself somewhere safe.

_Somewhere safe._

Before Wolfgang realized what he was doing, an image of his apartment flickered into his mind’s eye. Then his mind was not his anymore, and his vision glided over to the bedroom, where a memory of him and Felix passed out in his bed after a long night of drinking and dancing in clubs zoomed into view. Then the torturer was inhabiting the Wolfgang inside the memory, pushing himself up from the bed.

_No!_

Wolfgang imagined invisible tendrils reaching out to bind himself to the bed. But they, like him, were numbed by the electric shocks and the physical attacks that followed. The exertion made his vision zoom in and out of focus as if the water from the pool in his earlier memory had seeped _inside_ his head.

His left arm—but not his, no longer his—moved without his command, pushing Felix’s head towards him so that he could see his face. His right arm reached to Felix’s right back pocket, the place he always kept his ID.

“Felix Berner,” said the Headhunter’s raspy voice.

Suddenly, Wolfgang was pulled away from his memory, a hand at his shoulders hoisting him out of the flashback, and his back slammed against the reclining chair on which he was bound. Another gush of warm metallic liquid brimmed in his throat from the impact. The man grabbed his shoulders again—

Wolfgang heard the door open, and the Headhunter let go of him. A woman’s voice spoke through what he presumed was the mask of a Hazmat suit. She had a London accent. 

“Pardon me, Mister Pelzer. Someone’s expecting you down in the atrium.” 

Pelzer let out a gruff sound of acknowledgment before turning back to Wolfgang, who cowered in the chair, dreading another punch to the chest. _Weak_ , said his father’s voice, but he pushed it away and braced himself for more pain.

“That will be all for today, Wolfgang. You have been very helpful.”

Pelzer appeared to have turned to leave, and Wolfgang was about to try and breathe a sigh of relief when turned and slapped Wolfgang’s chest again. And before he had a chance to launch a mental kick at himself for putting Felix in danger, Wolfgang choked and passed out from the pain.

*

 _This is fucking crazy._ Felix chanted it to himself like a mantra as he got on the train. _This is fucking crazy. Fucking crazy._

Then again, nothing about his life had been normal lately.

It all started when he and Wolfie decided to steal the diamonds from right under Steiner’s nose. They’d thought it was a smart trick to pull under the watchful eyes of his uncle. In retrospect, if they’d stuck to petty thievery, a lot of this could have been avoided. 

Though he was almost certain someone more powerful than Fuchs was involved in his friend’s disappearance, and he wasn’t sure anyone could have avoided _that_. 

He’d gone to Wolfie’s apartment the day after he last saw him to confront his friend for ignoring his texts. He found the place tidy but not spotless, the way Wolfie usually left it, but there was a half-packed suitcase on the bed, and the clothes were strewn about as if he’d gone out for a quick walk and would be back to finish packing later. 

_You motherfucker. Going through with the India Plan without me?_

But a hunch told him there was no way Wolfie would ghost his best friend and take off to another continent without at least saying goodbye.

The walls, upon closer inspection, had a faint smell of chlorine and bleach. Someone had tried to get rid of the sign of struggle. Blood? Probably. He prayed it was not Wolfie’s. Then his phone had chimed, and an undetectable number had sent him the following words: 

_Wolfgang is in danger. Do not go back to your shop. Pack your bags. We will be in touch._

_—A Friend_

And this was how Felix Berner found himself on a train from Paris to London four days later with no further instruction except to wait in front of the ticket office at St. Pancras Station.

When the train door opened, he walked out and sat down on a bench right below the big screen with the timetable. He took out his phone and scrolled through Twitter mindlessly, then stopped and did a double take when he found his picture on a wanted sign, posted by the Berlin Metropolitan Police. (And it was not a flattering picture, mind you. It was a fucking mugshot from when he had long hair.)

_Felix Berner. Wanted for robbery. Reward up to €5,000._

Whoever was behind Wolfie’s kidnapping had probably also done this. Felix admitted to himself that if he weren’t so creeped out, he would have seriously considered asking someone to turn him in. They could have split the reward. 

“Felix!” a woman exclaimed behind him.

Felix turned, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, he found himself suffocating in a jumble of wild black curls and yellow sundress. He could smell jasmine. Behind her, a woman with short black hair smiled faintly at him in apology.

“Let him breathe, Kala,” the other woman said. 

“Right.” Kala gave an apologetic smile before pulling back and placing her hands on Felix’s shoulders to look him in the eye. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” Felix said in English, mindful that he was no longer in Berlin. “I’m flattered that a woman like you threw yourself at me like this”—the woman with the bob behind Kala put a hand to her face—“but I’ve had a fucking crazy couple of days. And the last time I tried to help a damsel in distress, I got shot.”

“Felix,” Kala started, sitting down next to him. She opened her mouth and closed it again. “We—I mean, Wolfgang, he”—she flailed her hands about, brows furrowed in search of the right words—“we’re trying to—”

“She’s the India Plan,” the woman with the bob said. 

Felix froze and turned back to Kala, who nodded. Then the woman with the bob walked closer and patted him on the shoulder with a firm hand.

“If you want to help us find Wolfgang, I suggest you keep quiet and follow us.”

 _This is fucking crazy._ Felix repeated the mantra to himself as he followed them into a rental car. But in the last few days, he’d taken five trains and two shuttle buses across Western Europe to find his brother per the instruction of anonymous texts. He certainly wasn’t going to stop now.

*

When Felix had been debriefed, and everyone else had gone to bed, Sun and Nomi sat on the couch facing the door to take the first shift. Sun watched as Nomi sifted through confidential emails and hacked into security systems in places she didn’t even know could have cameras. 

“I used to think you can only hack like this in a movie,” Sun remarked.

Nomi smiled. “I told you, I’m an all-access kind of girl.”

“You are.” Sun thought of the time Nomi broke her out of prison, away from the confines that made her vulnerable to ordered attacks by her brother’s men. Sun didn’t protest when Nomi yawned and turned the screen towards her, and laid her head on her shoulder. 

Nomi’s fingers continued to dance on the trackpad. She logged on to a Korean news website. Sun turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d like to check for updates on Mun.”

Right. With all the crazy things Sun had experienced in the last few days, she’d nearly forgotten about the stubborn detective. She swallowed back her guilt. She tried to tell herself that her concern was merely due to her brother’s responsibility for his shooting, but even she couldn't convince herself.

Nomi lifted her head and put an arm around Sun’s shoulder. “I don’t think he’s giving up any time soon.” 

She pointed to the screen that now showed a video of the latest news report. _Shot detective at Bak Summer Gala, awake, in stable condition,_ the caption said. 

And then: _Detective identifies CEO Bak Joong-Ki as shooter._

 _Stupid. Dangerous. Joong-Ki will kill him if he finds out._ He did all this for Sun. He got hurt because of her. Why _her_?

“My theory is that it’s a cop thing,” Nomi said, knowing what was on her mind despite being on Blockers.

Sun humphed. “Not all police are like that.”

“No, I suppose not.” Nomi leaned against Sun’s shoulder again. “But he’s not like every police officer, is he?”

Three hours later, Will and Riley woke to find Nomi asleep on the couch, her head cuddled against Sun’s shoulder. Will opened his mouth to say something, but Sun’s glare shut him right up. And when Riley leaned in closer to put a blanket over them, she could have sworn Sun was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to LettersfromLaika and guinevereg (@andguinevere on tumblr) for their wonderful beta work :) Go check out their stories and blog!
> 
> Things to look forward to:  
> \- Feels for all the ships, feels all around  
> \- Love and friendship in and outside the Cluster-family  
> \- Memories from our heroes’ childhoods  
> \- New (Sensate) allies and old enemies  
> \- Milton’s darkest secrets and the Chairman’s agenda  
> \- The truth behind Jonas and Angelica’s association with BPO
> 
> If I've been silent for a while and you wanna call me out for procrastinating, you can stalk me on tumblr @chaptersonetoinfinity and see how distracted I am, or have a chat with me, or yell at me for leaving a cliffhanger.
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated :) Don't worry, I don't bite!


	2. A little peculiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfgang meets a Sensate with a secret, and Jonas is as vague as ever. 
> 
> “And so I cry sometimes  
> When I'm lying in bed  
> Just to get it all out  
> What's in my head  
> And I, I’m feeling a little peculiar.”  
> — From “What’s Up”, by 4 Non Blondes (S1E4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Who's ready for the plot to thicken? *mad cackle* Thank you all for the lovely comments. You made my day!

**June 30, 2017**

It was hard for Dani to sleep past eight in the morning, a deprivation she usually made up for with shameless napping. There was a certain sense of power that came with being the first to wake. The quietness of the morning allowed her to be free with all her thoughts, and lately, there was a lot for her to ponder over.

Dani had also never been able to sleep well when she felt unsafe. Back when she lived with Joaquín, she’d perfected the art of concealing the black rings around her eyes and sustained her sanity by drinking black coffee with a shot of mezcal. Now that she was sharing a space with ten strangers and two prisoners in the living room of a two-bedroom hideout in London? It was a wonder she fell asleep at all.

She woke to find everyone asleep except for Will and Riley, who kept a vigilant eye over the door. Will's head was leaned against Riley’s shoulder, and Riley was humming an Icelandic lullaby to herself while she absentmindedly stroked his hair. Kala was curled up on the couch in a fetal position, a blanket draped over her, her head on Riley’s lap.

Kala coped with stress by working tirelessly whenever she had free time, and last night she’d finally crashed. Dani felt a pang of sympathy for her; she knew the pain of sleep deprivation all too well. The night they brought in the two prisoners, Kala had fallen into a trance. Lito had quietly filled them in on the situation while everyone else came to Kala’s aid without a pause. They’d navigated themselves around each other so naturally, like the kind of family Dani never had but always envied. Dani had initially suspected it was a joke.

She turned her head to her right, where Hernando gently snored between her and Lito, his head ducked low and halfway buried underneath their blanket. Hernando didn’t used to sleep that way. It was a new habit he’d picked up since the night he and Lito took refuge in Dani’s house after they’d escaped from the paparazzi crowded around Lito’s old apartment. Lito, on the other hand, always slept on his back with the blanket tucked under his arms, chin raised, ready to face the world with a smile full of charisma.

She pulled herself up, keeping quiet in case she woke her boys. Will and Riley and bid her a silent good morning when she turned towards them. Carefully, she stepped over Lito’s outstretched arm, which he’d reached across the space between their mattress and Sun’s over the course of the night.

She’d come to know that Lito viewed Sun as something of a big sister, and he searched for her protection instinctively, even in his sleep. Sun, though, was stoic as always, lips tightly pursed in her no-nonsense manner. She slept on her back with her arms on her side, never moving but always ready to jump into action.

And when Dani tiptoed around the side, she nearly laughed out loud upon noticing that, next to Sun, Capheus lay spread-eagled with his day clothes still on, taking up a large and vulnerable presence on their shared mattress.

She stepped around one last mattress on her way to the kitchen. The iced latte she retrieved from the fridge was just cold enough for her liking. She sat down at the kitchen table to sip at it, taking in the view of Nomi and Amanita huddled together in a tangle of limbs and blankets, hands locking, foreheads touching.

She was, she admitted to herself, a little jealous of the love that flowed between the couple. They embodied a wholeness with the way they complemented each other, and even though Dani had known them for three days, the only way she could imagine them was _together_. Not to mention Amanita was the type of woman Dani aspired to be: headstrong, gorgeous, big heart brimming with acceptance. She’d learned a lot about sensacity from Amanita, the only other non-Sensate in the room save for Hernando and herself.

And Felix.

Dani struggled to find words to describe the newest addition to their team. Her first impression upon seeing the lanky man was “criminal”, if the fidgeting fingers and furtive glances were any indications. Felix’s flamboyant fashion style brought about the party-animal persona pretty effectively, though it had vanished as soon as the door opened, and he saw the sheer number of people in the hideout.

But she suspected there was more to Felix than meets the eye.

She was accustomed to criminals, of course. She’d grown up around them, gone to family reunions where everyone argued about money for the entirety of dinner, not even bothering with euphemisms. She’d seen all the telltale signs on Felix, too, but compared to her family, he lacked the facade of discretion. Instead, he wore the token of his status with pride—a pair of flashy silver leather shoes.

Last night it had taken three hours of explaining, two BPO lobotomy records and a demonstration of Sensate powers from Sun and Capheus to convince Felix they were on his side. And the moment Felix decided he believed them, he’d insisted on taking an active role in the rescue. It was in that moment that Dani realized the difference between Felix and people in her family. Felix had something they did not: someone to protect.

But then he’d winked at Dani, smoothed his hair back with his hand, and approached her to “make the pretty lady’s acquaintance”, and she decided that despite his admirable loyalty and bravery, Felix was still an annoying flirt.

As she pondered over these first impressions, the man in question rose from where he was sleeping and waltzed into the kitchen, wearing an air of confidence like a favorite jacket. ( _Except he’s shirtless_ , she added as she snuck a glance at the scrawny fella.) He helped himself to black coffee and a big spoonful of sugar before making his way over to where Dani sat, slipping into the stool next to her. His eyes traveled down the plunging neckline of her pajama top and back again. He gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes.

“This is fucking crazy,” he pointed out in a suave voice, apparently unfazed by her lack of interest. “But lucky for you, I am an adventurous man.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You might not know me, Dani, but back in Berlin, I’m kind of a big deal.”

“Oh, I know,” Dani decided to tease him a little, “I saw your wanted poster. Interesting hair choice. Why’d you cut it off?”

“ _Pfft_.” Felix batted the air with his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment but failing as a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “That? I was attracting too many ladies. I couldn’t make time for them all. I don’t like breaking hearts, but I’m a busy man.”

 _Of course you are_.

“What happened there?” She decided to switch the topic to stop Felix’s endless attempts at flirting. She nodded at the scars on his chest, bullet wounds mixed with cuts from glass shards, markings she could recognize all too well.

“Oh, these?” His eyes gleamed as he propped his elbow on the table, showcasing his scars in their entirety. “I got these from saving a damsel. It was quite the adventure.”

_Of course it was._

Still, Dani couldn’t help but smile a little when Felix flexed his muscles and gave her a toothy come-get-me grin.

*

The next time Wolfgang woke up, he turned his head to find a young woman sitting next to his recliner, her eyes fixated on the screen of the Traceworks machine. She’d pulled off the hood and the mask on her Hazmat suit, revealing shoulder-length black hair with the tip dyed blue. She wore a name tag on her suit that said “Yang”.

“Wh”—he hated the way his voice came out raspy, a result of excessive screaming followed by choking on his own blood, but he rasped on regardless—“What the fuck do you want?”

To his surprise, Yang smirked. “Well good morning to you too.”

“You were here yesterday.”

It was not a question. Wolfgang had been paying particular attention to voices to try and deduce the number of people present in the room along with his whereabouts, and he distinctively remembered this London accent.

“Well yes, I mean, I do work here. I have a uniform and all.” She gestured to the mask she held in her hand. “Though it _is_ getting quite hot lately, isn’t it? It never used to get this hot.”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Right. I guess they’d never let you in somewhere with a window.” She shrugged. For someone who presumably spent her days tranquilizing prisoners, she sounded surprisingly chipper. Wolfgang narrowed his eyes.

“Bit unfortunate, really,” she continued, unfazed by Wolfgang’s sudden fixation on her. “They have a few rooms upstairs with quite the view. The skyline, and all that.”

He’d have snorted at her lack of discretion if he wasn’t already exhausted from talking. “Why the fuck would you tell me all this?”

“Well, I reckon if I have to babysit a prisoner while Pelzer’s running about trying to locate his colleague, I may as well keep myself entertained.”

“His colleague?” he prompted. If she didn’t want to shut up, he might as well try and get some information out of her.

“You haven’t heard?” Yang gave him a mischievous smirk, and a single dimple appeared on the right side of her cheek. She almost looked innocent. Wolfgang wondered about her age. “Some rogue Sensates snuck in here and kidnapped one of the Headhunters. Gave him a good old smacking, too. Took us all day to clean the blood off.”

So Milton really had been captured. Good. He hoped Will put a bullet through him after giving him a piece of his mind. But why—

“If this is some kind of trick, it’s not gonna work,” Wolfgang said.

“Small talk is a _very_ effective means of interrogation, I’ll have you know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’d have gone with mind reading, but they don’t trust me to be off Blockers.”

“You’re a Sensate?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“But you work for _them._ ” The hatred was apparent in his voice. “You really are out of your fucking mind.”

“You’re not the only one with secrets, Wolfgang,” she responded cheekily. “If you share one of yours, I might consider sharing one of mine.”

“Get the fuck out.” He spat.

She shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself.”

Yang stood up and put her hood back on. She reached over to the IV bottle, flicked on a switch at the top, then gave the drip chamber a small squeeze. Tranquilizer trickled into the tube connected to his hand. He didn’t realize the IV had been off.

“Camera’s gonna be on in”—she rolled back the sleeve of her Hazmat and checked her watch—“five minutes. So you might wanna start acting unconscious.”

*

“We know there’s more than one of you out there catching Sensates,” Nomi said to Milton. They’d decided to tackle the interrogation from another angle when Will’s tactic failed to yield results yesterday. Amanita had insisted on sitting right outside the door so she could burst in if something went wrong.

“An astute deduction, Miss Marks.”

“We have facts. Locations. We know where to find people like you. We can track them down. You’re not gonna win this one.” Nomi sat down in the chair near his stretcher.

“Yes, do help us catch the incompetent ones in our midst,” Milton responded calmly. “You and I both know the experienced Headhunters would be a lot harder to track.”

“We tracked _you_ down,” Nomi pointed out.

“They won’t be so reckless like you are.”

“They? Who’s they?”

“Oh come, now, Nomi. Surely you know it’s not going to be so easy to get me to talk.”

Nomi sighed. “There’s been a lot of missing persons in London lately. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Is that so?”

She ignored his question. “We have reason to believe the missing people are Sensates.”

Milton raised an eyebrow. He cocked his head to the side and looked her in the eye. “Tell me, Miss Marks, what do you plan on doing after this? Catch all the Headhunters yourself?”

“If we can get rid of another one of you, I’d say that’s a win.”

“It will take quite some work if you’re hoping to annihilate us all.”

“Maybe this other Headhunter I’ve located,”—she pulled up her phone and read from the screen—“ _Karl Pelzer_ ”—she said slowly—“will be more open to interrogation?”

Milton’s poker face was a well-practiced mask, but Nomi detected a twitch in his right eyelid for a brief second. _A hint of surprise,_ she recalled from Will and Lito’s crash course.

Nomi let out a small smirk of triumph. “Thank you so much for confirming his name.”

*

Meanwhile, in the other room, Sun was hitting a wall.

“Why can’t you ever give a straight answer?”

“The truth is for me to know, and for you to find out in due time,” Jonas answered from the bed on which he was cuffed. A small courtesy on their end, if only for old time’s sake.

Sun scowled. “Next time I should look inside your head.”

“If you do, you will be disappointed. There is much for you to learn about your powers. I’ve had years to perfect mine.”

“Time is not the sole indicator of expertise.”

“That may be,” he conceded, “but all I can say is that right now, you will not understand any of my decisions. What you did was reckless. If you take the wrong step, it can lead to the end of _Homo sensorium_.”

“Milton said the same thing.”

“I suggest you take his words on the matter. He is, after all, one of the earliest Headhunters. If there is anyone who knows about the Sapiens in BPO and what they’re planning, I have reason to believe it would be him.”

“If you are hoping to overthrow BPO, I don’t see why you do not approve of what we did.”

“You misunderstood,” Jonas said. “I am not hoping to overthrow anyone. But I cannot say the same for your Cluster.”

“The same for what?”

“Your actions, whether you know it or not, have started a war. And in wars, there will always be a losing side.”

Sun crossed her arms. “We do not plan to lose.”

“All victories come at a price, Sun. You know that better than most.”

“What’s your point?”

Jonas chuckled. “Soon you may find yourselves with more trouble than you’ve bargained for, but by then, you will have reached the point of no return.”

*

“Jonas hasn’t told you anything?” Capheus asked Sun that night as they sat on the couch to guard the door.

“Nothing useful.” Sun recounted Jonas’ exact words.

Capheus furrowed his brows. “What does he mean, there’s no return? What are we returning from?”

“I suspect getting Wolfgang back won’t be the end of our problems,” Sun speculated. “I think BPO might come after us because of what we did, and we may have to kill them all if we don’t want to be on the receiving end of their bullets.”

“Sounds like a job for the spirit of Jean Claude.”

Sun tensed. “You have highly overestimated my ability to defy death.”

Images flashed by their shared mind, and Capheus knew Sun was thinking about her last night at Cheongju Prison. She still had nightmares about being hung, of her limbs flailing helplessly against the bounds of a rope that clung too tight around her neck and hung too high for her to reach the safety of the ground. She pushed the image away from her mind when she realized Capheus wasn’t on Blockers.

“But you _did_ defy death.” Capheus shook his head. “Because you are sitting here now.”

He reached into the drawer of the nightstand next to the couch and brought out some gauze to bandage her bleeding hands — after she finished interrogating Jonas, she’d hit a wall. Literally. It pained him to see her hurt herself whenever she was angry.

“You were not alone then, and you are not alone now,” he told her as he finished wrapping the gauze around her knuckles. “Whatever we do, we always have each other’s backs.”

“But that means if one of us gets hurt—”she paused.

It was the one thing she’d been dreading since the moment they set out to capture Jonas and Whispers. Capheus could feel her apprehension. And it was a reasonable thing to worry about. Not all of them could fight like her. But all of them had come this far, with and without Sun’s help.

“Didn’t we once think the idea of beating Whispers was impossible?” Capheus pointed out. “But look where we are now. And who’s to say this is all we can do?”

“You think we have a chance?” she asked in a small voice.

“I know we do.”

“Why?”

“As far as I know, no Sensate had even made it out of a BPO headquarter alive,” he pointed out. “But we did. _Twice_. I know we can do it again, but this time, we wait for the right moment, and we fight harder than we have ever done.”

Capheus twisted his expressions into a menacing growl that made Sun chuckle.

“You are such an optimist.”

“So I’ve been told. I got it from my mother.” He smirked an impish smirk.

“You should have warned me it’s contagious.” Capheus raised a fist in victory.

“Van Damme always comes back,” he reassured. “And so will we.”

*

**July 1, 2017**

The wild-haired Egyptian, bound against a recliner seat, snarled at the scar-faced Headhunter who towered over him.

Karl Pelzer had spent weeks trying to pry inside the prisoner’s head for information, but his prisoner had proven himself to be skilled at shielding his mind. Karl had seriously considered simply giving this man up to be grafted, but Milton was confident he had crucial information, and he’d be more useful alive than dead.

Karl grabbed the paddles and pushed hard against the prisoner’s chest, counting to three before he let go. The prisoner sneered at him through bloodied teeth, unfazed by the pain.

 _It hasn’t worked before, and it’s not going to work now,_ the prisoner thought, still taunting.

The machine beeped, detecting the quickened brain waves. Karl focused on the echo of the prisoner’s pain that reverberated in the back of Karl’s own mind, a result of their Sensate connection. This was the safe way—Karl could perceive that this prisoner had felt pain without living through the torture with him. He’d never leave himself vulnerable.

Karl leaped into the Egyptian’s mind as soon as he identified the Echo, hoping for a glimpse of another Sensate who felt this pain. Surely, the prisoner had _someone_?

Like before, Karl found himself submerged in stark black space. This time, though, there was also a faint sound that faded in and out of the space… Karl closed his eyes, ignored the nothingness around him, and concentrated. Gradually the sound drawled out into a constant buzzing. It was the all-too-familiar buzzing sound a Blocker would make before it shut off the mind of a Sensate.

A Sensate Karl had yet to catch.

 _All my connections are dead,_ the prisoner had thought reproachfully during his first interrogation with Karl. _Search me all you want. You will find nothing._

But lately, BPO’s Blocker supply had been disappearing. Yang, the employee who’d brought this prisoner in, said her Cluster had traced an underground Blocker trade back to this man. Yang and her Cluster had speculated that the prisoner was receiving the supplies from someone working inside BPO recently.

Milton had interrogated this man once before he was abducted. He’d noted that whatever information the prisoner was withholding, he was putting all his might into keeping it hidden. It must have been something he desperately needed to protect.

Karl yanked himself away from the darkness and looked into his prisoner’s eyes. “Not all of your connections are dead. They’re hiding. But I know you’ve seen them.”

He immediately zapped the paddles against the prisoner’s chest once again. Before the prisoner could recover from the spasms brought forth by the heightened voltage, Karl dug into his mind, hoping his last comment had brought forth the man’s memory of the mole he must have dealt with face-to-face.

A scene unfolded around Karl’s disembodied mind.

_Karl found himself encased in a dome of warmth. He could hear the river gushing and children laughing. The orange Egyptian sun hung low in the sky. Two little boys were sitting in a canoe tied to the bank. They paddled, pretending to be in control of the waves. The older boy shouted something to the younger boy, who nodded. But the words were lost to Karl’s ears, masked by the raging water._

_The scene around Karl morphed into another. The air around him was still warm, the setting sun still a glowing orange, and the river gushed on like before. But this time there was one young man kayaking instead of two boys, paddling like he’d practiced for years, coursing around the bends of the river with ease. The man wore a grim expression, and when he reached calmer waters, he retrieved an urn from underneath where he sat and scattered ashes into the river._

_The scene changed again, and Karl hoped he was worming his way into a relevant memory at last. But instead, he found himself back in the first scene with the little boys who wanted to kayak across the Nile. His mind’s eye was bouncing between the two connected memories back and forth like a ball in a juggler’s hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and blocked his ears to drown out his senses._

Then Karl’s his consciousness was back in the interrogation room, and the prisoner looked at him with a smug grin, blood dribbling down his chin.

 _Is this the best you can do?_ the prisoner taunted as Karl walked briskly out of the room.

*

Veronika’s dark red nails drummed against her teal Moleskine planner, on which she wrote _Bak, Seoul office, 1AM BST_. Her phone was lying flat on the desk in front of her. Her free hand twirled the immaculate curls on her blonde hair, which brushed against her shoulder.

“Rasal is still refusing to reconsider,” the voice through the speaker said.

Her fingers stopped drumming. “Mr. Kapoor,” she enunciated slowly, “if you are calling to reassure me of your incompetence—”

“No, of course not, ma’am,” he answered immediately.

“Then what is it you wish to tell me?” Veronika asked, irritation apparent in her voice. She leaned back in her chair and glared up at the ceiling.

“I-I have good news.” He stuttered, then paused, and continued again after she made a hum, a cue for him to go on. “I’m-I’m close to securing a means of surveillance, ma’am. My men have been searching through the Rasal Pharmaceuticals database, and they believe they have located the import-export records on his drug storage units from the years before.”

She flicked open the cap on her black fountain pen and noted the development in her signature calligraphic cursive.

“When will these files be ready?” she asked after a few moment’s pause.

“We… erm—”he sounded tense, his words jumbling together in a rush. “W-we are doing our very best, ma’am, I am putting my very best man on the job—”

“ _The point_ , Mr. Kapoor?”

“—b-but it will not be ready for another two weeks, they say,” he finished in a small voice. Then, hearing no reply, he continued, “They need time to work around the configurations placed on the documents, ma’am, but the data is there.”

Veronika let out an exasperated sigh. “Tell your men to work faster. We cannot afford to waste time at this stage.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Ajay?” She kept her voice light, but she could make out a small intake of breath from the other end, that sound of panic whenever she called him by his first name.

“Y–yes, ma’am?”

“We may have been business partners for years, but the history of our collaboration is irrelevant in this matter.”

“I know. Y–yes, I know.” She could imagine him nodding frantically.

“If you prove yourself too incompetent to deliver on time, there are dozens of others waiting in line to serve my operation. You are not irreplaceable.”

“Understood, ma’am,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“That will be all. Good day, Ajay.”


	3. Let the world spin madly on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang finally hears from Wolfgang, and all hell breaks loose in St. Petersburg.
> 
> “Woke up and wished that I was dead  
> With an aching in my head   
> I lay motionless in bed  
> I thought of you and where you'd gone  
> and let the world spin madly on.”  
> — From “World Spins Madly On”, by The Weepies (S1E8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you Kalagang shippers out there, this chapter's the one you've probably all been waiting for!
> 
> I would LOVE to hear what you guys think. Your comments make my day :)

**July 2, 2017**

Kala and Nomi sat facing each other in the Speakeasy. With a shared consciousness, they reached out to the minds of the rest of their Cluster but found only silence. It was early in the afternoon. BPO would likely be fully operating, so everyone else was on Blockers. They tried to ignore the feeling of absence in their collective perceptions and hoped the night would come sooner.

Wolfgang’s absence felt different, and Nomi was reminded of this every time she tried to reach out. The synapses in the Psycellium that connected Nomi’s mind to his were still there, but every time Nomi tried to signal his part of the shared consciousness, she’d hit a barrier. And if she tried to push past it, she’d find herself sliding back into their own minds. A quick look at Kala confirmed Kala was experiencing the same thing.

“They’re keeping him sedated,” Kala concluded with a frown.

Nomi nodded. “I think we’re the only ones who have injectable Blockers,” she said, smiling like a proud big sister. “BPO should be afraid of you.”

Kala smiled back shyly, but Nomi knew she was ecstatic inside her mind.

“How are you feeling?” Kala asked instead, rubbing a thumb on the back of Nomi’s hand. “You know you didn’t have to—”

“I’m fine.” Nomi tried to keep her tone steady as her eyes glanced nervously around the corners of the closet. She tried to stifle her anxiety, pushing the bad memories away. It felt like the space was shrinking, getting smaller until it would swallow them whole. “It’s… I have to try it out to work through it. And I’m okay. It’s just that I can’t be—”

“—alone,” Kala finished her sentence.

Nomi nodded. It felt silly to admit it. Silly, but also better.

“Have you found anything on Pelzer?” Kala changed the topic, putting a hand on Nomi’s knee in comfort to draw her thoughts away from the walls closing in.

“He’s usually active around Bloomsbury”—Nomi said after a moment’s pause, gazing into Kala’s eyes instead of the tight space around them—“so that makes him a little hard to track down. There’s always so much data being logged from there.”

“Have you found any identifications?”

“He’s using more than one name.”

Kala scrunched up her nose, thinking. “That _would_ be a strategic choice for someone in his position.”

“Pelzer’s using disguises too,” Nomi added. “I found a couple credit cards active at different times of the week. He might be switching between his aliases.”

“And you think the cards are used by the same person?”

Nomi nodded. “Last night Bug and I were looking through the ID photos linked to the credit card accounts we pulled up. Nothing stood out at first, but—”

Nomi pulled out her phone and handed it to Kala. The first picture she showed was of a blond, rugged-looking man with a jagged scar down the left side of his face. Then Nomi swiped left to reveal a second photo, a scarred man in a black ponytail. Another swipe, and now a man with brown curly hair stared back at them, his face marred with the same scar.

“It’s really improbable for all three of them to all have the same scar _and_ never use their cards within the same hour,” Nomi told her.

“And they have the same facial structure, which makes it even less probable.”

Nomi nodded. “And the credit card registered under the name Pelzer? This morning he used it to buy a coffee at Heathrow. Terminal three.”

Kala’s face mirrored Nomi’s look of unease. “International flights,” she recalled. “Did you find a ticket registered under his name?”

“Single flight to Saint Petersburg. But there was no record of him at Immigration. He might have switched to another ID after he landed.”

Kala groaned.

“ _But_ Neets and Bug are checking hotel reservations. We’ll find him,” Nomi reassured.

It was Kala’s turn to look like the proud big sister.

*

“Hello again, Mr. Gorski.” Milton’s smile was cold when Will entered his room in the London hideout.

“You’re right,” Will cut straight to the chase, “I know what I have to do to find Wolfgang. Why don’t we give it a try?”

Will’s watch beeped as if on cue, signifying that Milton’s Blocker was wearing off as well as his own. He mirrored the Headhunter’s cold smile as the synapses of Milton’s mind snapped back into place. Will could tell the numbing sensation the Blocker provided was fading away inside Milton’s mind, leaving his consciousness exposed. _Vulnerable_.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Milton asked.

Will ignored him. He crouched down towards Milton’s stretcher to meet his eyes. He imagined Milton’s pupils as vortexes through which his mind’s eye could be transported into the consciousness of the Headhunter. Will continued staring without blinking as his surroundings faded from his view.

At first, there was only darkness. During Will’s mind-tug-o-war with Milton the year before, it was clear that the Headhunter was skilled at clearing his mind of all memories from the prying eyes of his Sensate enemies. Will had often felt his own dreams tainted with the chill Milton’s presence embodied. He had tried to push back into the mind of his invader, but all he’d found was more ice. They numbed his senses and forced him to draw his consciousness back to the comfort of the bed he shared with Riley.

But over the past year, Will had grown accustomed to the cold. He no longer felt the need to retreat when he sensed the chill that sheltered Milton’s mind. Instead, he imagined the heat from his own consciousness as an armor, and his mind’s presence pushed on through the blizzard of the Headhunter’s mind until he reached whatever Milton was trying to hide.

 _I found Croome like this,_ he reassured himself as the cold mist around Milton’s mind faded away. _I can do it again. Without drugs._

_The darkness around Will dissolved into a scene of stark white buildings. He smelled the tang of salt lingering in the air, and he heard seagulls chirping. Next to him, a woman laughed, clear as a bell. Will felt a chilling sensation worming its way into his mind, trying to numb his neuronic connections. The image around him was morphing into the shared living room of their London hideout, a memory of himself and Lito on the couch watching one of Lito’s movies—_

_Whispers already knew about Riley and Nomi (_ and Kala _, Will noted with a sigh), but Will was not about to compromise another one of his Cluster. So before Whispers could take over his body in the memory and take a closer look at Lito’s face, Will forced the memory away and imagined it was Riley on the couch, huddled against him during one of their night shifts. Riley’s hair tickled his chin, and her breath was warm against his chest._

Warmth _. Will engulfed this memory in Riley’s warmth, hoping to melt away the tendrils of ice creeping up behind him that threatened to trap him in. Will felt the cold retreat, and he found himself back in Milton’s memory with the blue sea and the white buildings on a hill._

_Was this Greece?_

_Will turned his head and saw a young woman walking next to him, holding his hand. Her light blue dress was a perfect blend of the colors around her, and the soft waves in her dark hair bobbed as she nodded at whatever he had said._

_At whatever_ Milton _had said._

_The woman began to flicker out of view as Whispers tried to force Will out of the memory, but Will opened his eyes wide and took in the woman’s face, fixating on her presence at that moment in time. She had a small pink flower tucked behind one ear, and the corners of her emerald eyes crinkled as she smiled. She swung his—Milton’s—hand playfully as they strolled down the walkway._

_She opened her mouth, and Will expected to hear words he could not understand._

Kala had speculated whether reading the mind of another Sensate allowed the reader to comprehend whatever language was being spoken in the memory. She had wondered if comprehension of the memory could be affected by the native language of the reader, as well as the one whose mind was being read. She and Will had decided the only way they could know was by testing it out.

“ _You think this new power of ours… It’s epigenetic?” the woman enunciated the last word slowly._

The woman’s voice sounded like English to Will. Or perhaps it seemed that way to Milton when the memory was first formed, and it became encoded in the same way? Will took note as he concentrated on the conversation, dodging whatever attempt Whispers was making to draw him out.

_“I suspect there had been changes to the physiology of our brain following—or maybe even before—our rebirth. Which would explain the migraines,” Milton said. His voice sounded sincere, so unlike the one that haunted Will’s dreams._

_The woman cringed. “I remember. It was a very painful transformation. Our brains must have grown a whole lot for us to be connected so thoroughly.”_

_Milton laughed. “I’d say it was worth it,” he said, squeezing her hand. She smiled. “I think the changes occurred in the frontal lobe.”_

_“Frontal lobe?” she asked._

_“The frontal lobe plays a significant role in navigating voluntary movement. That could explain why we can ‘inhabit’ each other’s bodies and use our skills to physically do things miles away.” Milton spoke faster now, with a passion in his voice that sounded as distant as ancient history. “And the frontal lobe also plays a role in integrating certain memories—memories associated with emotions, memories that are derived from input from the limbic system. Which means—”_

_“We can feel what someone else is feeling?” she finished._

_“Precisely.”_

The woman opened her mouth again, but the sound of her voice became gurgles to Will’s ears, and the scene around Will faded into the darkness. Will found himself back in the confines of his own body in Whispers’ room.

“That’s quite enough, Will.”

Anger brimmed at Milton’s voice, a rage he didn’t bother to hide. This was an anger Will had only felt once before when he’d seen Milton yell at his wife and daughter to leave him alone as they complained about being holed up in a BPO safe house.

Will felt the corners of his lips twitch into a triumphant smile. It was always good to know he’d breached into something he wasn’t supposed to see. “Touchy subject, is it?” Will taunted. “Who’s that woman? One of your Cluster?”

Milton pursed his lips and glowered.

“You really care for her,” Will continued. “Or, I’m sorry, _cared_? I wouldn’t know.”

“What happened was none of your concern.”

“Sorry.” Will shrugged. “Cop habits.”

Before Milton could say anything else. Will took out the syringe he kept in his pocket and injected a dose of Blocker into Milton’s neck and felt a prickly and numbing sensation slithering through Milton’s synapses. _Good_.

Milton was clearly biting back a groan. “I will not be interrogated like one of your lowly criminals, _Officer Gorski,_ ” he said between clenched teeth.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Will replied as he sauntered out of the room. “I think I’m getting pretty good at this mind reading thing.”

*

On his first day in the London hideout, Capheus made his second acquaintance with electric home appliances, and Lito was thoroughly amused.

The toaster had made a delightful ding when bread jumped out of the slots, and Capheus was only too eager to catch a slice of toast with his hand. Kala had chastised him as she soothed his burns, her tone of exasperation befitting a mother of a misbehaving five-year-old. Lito, who was making coffee nearby, had tried and failed to suppress a fit of giggles.

(Kala had punished Lito by tossing a pillow at him. And, Lito noted as the pillow flew right into his face, she had a surprisingly good aim. Instead of coming to his aid, Hernando had crossed his arms and told him off for laughing at his friend. _Traitor_.)

While Capheus had certainly learned his lesson with the toaster, he was still far from well-versed in dealing with other “miracle makers”. Overcooked dinners in the microwave were a common occurrence, as were under-brewed coffees and ice cream in the fridge. Lito had compiled a list of tips to for Capheus to keep in mind in his battle against technology. After three days Capheus had managed to remember everything.

Except which knob controlled the cold water in the shower.

Which was why, as Lito was marching into the kitchen to join Hernando in making dinner for the family, Capheus’ shriek stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ll save you, amigo!” Lito pivoted on the spot and made a beeline for the bathroom, throwing the door open without hesitation to come to his friend’s rescue like a real hero.

Hernando was still staring at the bathroom with his mouth open when Lito exited the shower with a look of triumph.

“I… B-but he’s—”

Amanita strolled past him to check on the soup she was in charge of making and patted him on the shoulder. “Aww, it’s okay, honey.” She smirked at the way he opened and closed his mouth with no sound coming out, shooting Lito a playful, _what-can-you-do_ wink. “It’s not the first time they’ve seen each other like this.”

The bell peppers Hernando was dicing earlier lay forgotten on the chopping board as he put a hand to his face and grumbled in Spanish, ignoring Lito’s attempts at a cuddle.

On the other side of the room, Felix plopped down on the couch next to Dani, who had recorded the whole scene with her phone.

“If this is the new normal, I must be batshit crazy,” Felix declared.

“Join the club,” Dani responded as she took out shot glasses and a bottle of scotch she kept on the nightstand nearby. She poured two drinks and handed one to Felix.

“Cheers.”

He threw back the drink in one gulp and turned to Dani, who grinned teasingly, showing him her empty glass, and poured him another. Lito watched them with narrowed eyes. He didn’t like that Felix and Dani were getting close. _Too_ close.

But before Felix and Dani could down their second shot—before Lito could march over and join them to make sure Felix wasn’t up to his usual flirting business—they were interrupted by Nomi. She gasped and leaped from where she sat on her mattress, cranking up the volume on her laptop as she turned the screen so everyone could see. A news reporter’s voice reverberated around the living room where everyone stopped in their tracks to listen.

“… fifteen dead and two dozen injured at the mass-shooting at Nevsky Prospekt in Saint Petersburg. Witnesses identified three culprits who shot themselves shortly after…”

*

**July 3, 2017**

In the Speakeasy, Kala reached out to all corners of her Cluster’s shared consciousness. She felt the prickles from the numbed synapses of the six Cluster-mates on Blockers and braced herself for the wall of resistance from Wolfgang’s mind. She forced away the _what if_ ’s that plagued her waking moments, imagining herself shattering the barrier, brick by brick.

But the barrier never came.

Instead, she found herself lying in a room that was all white. She heard a machine beep nearby. A needle was injected into the back of her left hand. The fluorescent light was hurting her eyes, so she squinted. She let out a deep breath, but the muscles on her chest ached terribly, and she bit hard on her lip to stop the whimper from escaping.

_Wait._

She turned her head to the left and opened her mouth in horror when she saw the machine. It was the same machine Whispers had used to track her. The monitor showed elevated heartbeats. _His_ heartbeats.

Kala shifted out of Wolfgang’s body and stood next to the recliner on which he was bound.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Wolfgang’s voice was raspy, and with every strained syllable, Kala could feel the despair seeping through. But it was _his_ voice. She drew a sharp breath and leaped up from the ground so fast, she worried she’d launch her consciousness straight back into the Speakeasy.

She forced herself to stay, leaned closer, and took in the details of Wolfgang’s face. She let out a pained sob. Streaks of dried blood ran down his chin from the corners of his mouth, and she turned her gaze away from the gushes of scarlet sprinkled on his white gown.

Kala reached out a hand to caress Wolfgang’s cheek but stopped abruptly, worried it might hurt him.

 _I’m sorry,_ Wolfgang thought.

“ _No_.” She shook her head vigorously and her black curls swayed. Her brows furrowed in that particularly listen-to-me way. “No,” she repeated. “Don’t you dare.”

To soothe the pain that bled through their connection, Kala recalled the sound of rain pattering against the pavement. She reached out again and, slowly, the tips of her fingers grazed the side of Wolfgang’s stubbled face.

Wolfgang closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly, carefully, and his lung was still prickling, but the pain seemed to have dulled in her presence. His nerves tingled at her touch, and his muscles relaxed, but he hated himself for giving in. Kala felt the hate as if it were her own.

Kala brought forth the memory of their Cluster’s infiltration of BPO. They’d wheeled Milton’s unconscious body away on a stretcher, sauntered through the halls in Hazmat suits, and smuggled a Headhunter from right under BPO’s nose. And she’d smacked a real Hazsuit hard across the face with a gun as she snatched their ID.

The corners of his mouth quirked as he detected a shred of her wicked satisfaction. She smiled back. The memory was taking his mind off his pain, at least a little.

“We’re coming for you,” she said softly, leaning in close.

 _Don’t_ , he shook his head. Tiny light spots flickered in his vision from the movement. He shut his eyes tight.

“We’re not giving up on you. _I’m_ not giving up,” Kala insisted, putting her hand over his head to steady him, stroking his hair over the EEG cap he wore.

Kala continued to think of falling rain as she felt his lungs throb with the pain left by the electrical pulses, trying to lull his mind with the rhythm of raindrops and soothe the burning sensation in his chest with a memory of cold rainwater dripping on her skin. She pressed her lips against his slowly. Her hair fell down the sides of her face, shielding their kiss from the reality of the white walls surrounding them.

Carefully, she grazed over the crackles on his lips with hers. Wolfgang suppressed a moan, and her tongue ran down the crevice of his now-parted mouth, smearing away the remnants of blood that had gathered from Pelzer’s relentless pummeling and electrocutions from the night before. He hastily pushed that memory out of his mind, but she had already seen it.

In their shared consciousness, the memory of the drizzle turned into a thunderstorm. Kala’s lips quivered, and she drew back from the kiss, eyes burning. She clutched her hand into a fist and pressed it against his palm. She gritted her teeth so hard, they both felt a slight crackle under all the pressure.

“ _Kala_ ,” he breathed.

His voice drowned out the tempest that was taking over her mind. Kala’s gaze softened at the sound of her name, and when they locked eyes again, she smiled with all the warmth she could muster. Gray clouds still hovered near the periphery of their minds. She put a hand on the side of his face and traced circles on his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Wolfgang,” she said, voice quivering, “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

She knew he would hate himself for what he was about to confess, but he said it anyway.

“Neither am I.”

After one last kiss, she left his side and paced around his room, carefully noting every detail she could find. She knocked on the walls, stomped on the ground, and perked up her ears to listen to any cues that may give away his location. _We’ll find you,_ she promised.

The door to his room opened abruptly. A figure in a Hazmat suit strolled in, pulling off the hood as the door clicked shut behind her to reveal black hair with the tip dyed blue.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Yang said cheerily in her unmistakable London accent, “but we’re expecting visitors.”

Yang walked towards his IV drip and fiddled with the switches before plugging in a new bag of sedatives to feed into his bloodstream.

“Camera’s on in five minutes,” Yang announced, winking at the space next to Wolfgang where Kala was standing.

Kala threw Wolfgang a questioning look. He quickly pushed the memory of his last conversation with Yang into the consciousness he shared with Kala. She nodded.

 _I love you,_ she thought as walls closed in on his mind again. _Wolfgang, I love you._

*

“I believe I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain,” Lila said as she walked into the office, lighting up a cigarette.

She smirked as she looked out the window and took in the view. Southwark was especially majestic at night, all indigo sky and yellow lights. Lila had always been fond of big cities—there was always more room to fill, endless opportunities to seize.

The man sitting across the desk in the office looked up from his keyboard. “You have,” he answered. “I hope you didn’t come all the way just to confirm this.”

She took a long drag and blew the smoke aside.“I’ve come to say goodbye, Bernard. Sebastian is expecting me back in Berlin. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Are you certain you do not wish to continue our collaboration?” Bernard asked, his voice betraying no emotion. “Veronika said she would like for you to reconsider.”

“Where is she now?”

“Out, I’m afraid. Urgent matter in Saint Petersburg.”

She humphed, eyebrow arching. “There must have been an awful shortage of people.”

“No, hardly.” Bernard put away his laptop.

“Tell her I’m not interested in being her servant.” The disdain was apparent in Lila’s voice.

“This offer extends to all members of your Cluster,” he offered. “You will be able to physically work alongside each other, with guaranteed protection.”

 _As if._ Lila stood up and walked towards the door. “We look after ourselves.”

“Miss Facchini,” Bernard called out to her. She stopped in her tracks and turned with a questioning look. “I do believe it will be in your best interest to accept the offer.”

“Why?” she asked, trying her best to sound bored instead of curious.

“For what Veronika has in store for the future of _Homo sensorium_ , you and your Cluster will need all the protection you can get.”

Lila crossed her arms. “We agreed, Bernard; no more secrets.”

Bernard smiled, giving in. “There are people right here in this building who can explain Veronika’s plan better than I. People you trust.”

She scoffed. “There’s no one I trust.”

“Really?” Bernard stood up and looked her in the eye. “Not even your own Cluster?”

*

In the London hideout, Hernando finished his food in silence. The news from the day before still loomed over his heads. Judging by the lack of conversation around the table, everyone was in a ponderous mood. Nomi had blamed herself for not uncovering the truth about Pelzer fast enough, Will had insisted they wouldn’t have had time to stop him either way, and that was the only two things they’d talked about throughout dinner.

The laptop with the configured voice chat application had been on for the entire day as Amanita, Nomi and Bug sifted through databases to try and uncover the reason behind an attack on the most famous street in St. Petersburg. So far they were drawing a blank. The one thing everyone agreed on was that BPO was definitely responsible.

“I mean, Mitchell Taylor’s assassination makes sense—we know Whispers was trying to eliminate his political opposition,” Amanita said as Riley and Capheus loaded dirty dishes into the dishwasher, “but this time they were killing random people.”

Hernando didn’t remember who Mitchell Taylor was. Lito had covered most of BPO’s history with the _Homo sensorium_ species, but the names were harder to track. Maybe tonight he could ask Nomi about it, but for now, he concentrated on the conversation.

“Are there any connections between the victims?” Will asked.

“None whatsoever,” Bug’s voice said through the speaker. “All innocent civilians going about their innocent civilian lives.”

“Maybe they want people to be scared,” Lito suggested. “This street was one of the most popular places in the city, no? Something happens here, everyone goes crazy.”

“That seems like the most plausible explanation given everything we know so far,” Kala agreed. “And if we assume BPO really is behind this—which probably is the case, but nothing is ever a hundred percent certain—I think it’s also safe to say the shooters were Bolgers. Most likely controlled by Pelzer as physical proximation may allow the Bolgers to be more easily controlled.”

“Bolgers? The ones who got their brains chopped?” Felix asked.

They nodded.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Felix continued. “They’re using them like fucking zombie soldiers.”

“But why?” Hernando found himself asking. “Why would these… these _Headhunters_ use Sensate like that? Why would they control their own species?”

Lito turned to him. “They’re not the ones who ordered the attacks, Hernando. Sensates are never the ones in charge. Everyone at the top, they’re all Sapiens. And these Headhunter traitors work for them.”

Dani looked at the closed door behind which Whispers was held captive. Hernando reached for her hand and found it shaking. “There are people _in charge of_ psychopaths like him?”

“Whispers said it’s the Sapiens in BPO we need to worry about,” Will said. “He said they’re planning something big.”

Nomi sighed. “How much easier would it be if these Headhunters are the end of our problems?”

Amanita rolled her eyes. “ _So much_ easier. I feel like I’m living in a Nancy Drew book.”

“Great. Now I have to play a fucking detective,” Felix said with a groan.

“Maybe these attacks _are_ random, so no one can track them down and stop them in time,” Kala speculated. “And if that’s true, I think it’s safe to assume they’re planning other attacks using the same strategy.”

“This is the first strike.” Lito’s voice was tense.

Kala nodded. “The question is, why do they want to kill a large number of innocent people instead of using these Bolgers to target someone specific? What can they achieve from these large-scale attacks that they can’t accomplish by secret assassinations?”

“The news,” Hernando blurted out.

Everyone turned to him.

That was it. This attack made it onto the news, just like the one before, the shooting at the Mosque that Lito had told him and Dani about on the first day. The one where a Sensate—a Bolger—took down Mitchell Taylor and all these unsuspecting spectators. And being on the world news meant publicity. It meant showing everyone what these Bolgers could do.

“Maybe they’re trying to get attention,” Hernando explained. “I mean, mass-shootings in major cities around the world? People are gonna be scared. BPO wants them to be scared.”

“But what do they want people to be scared of?” Amanita asked. “They haven’t blamed these attacks on a race, or a group of terrorists…”

“What if people know they’re Bolgers?” Hernando suggested. “What if BPO decides to reveal that soon?”

“Not Bolgers.” Nomi shook her head. “BPO’s not gonna admit they were Bolgers. No. They want to blame the attacks on _Sensates_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too comfortable with these every other day updates, okay? I think I'm gonna have a 2-day hiatus this time. But we're gonna get some action soon, so be excited!


	4. That long black cloud is goin’ down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang negotiates with BPO and tries to get an answer out of Jonas again.
> 
> “Mama, put my guns in the ground  
> I can't shoot them anymore  
> That long black cloud is goin' down  
> I feel I'm knockin' on Heaven's door."  
> — From “Knockin' On Heaven's Door”, by Anthony & The Johnsons (S1E9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments, you're too sweet! *hugs to all of you* Your words fuel my energy to write as much as I can :)

**July 4, 2017**

“To whom am I speaking?” the Secretary said through Milton’s phone.

Nomi could tell the Secretary used a voice processor, but there was something familiar about the rhythm with which he spoke. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but when she looked at Neets, her partner wore the same puzzled expression.

“We’re going to make a deal,” Will said.

“Is this Mr. Gorski?”

Will shrugged, and Nomi rolled her eyes. Usually, Will would have been creeped out that the Secretary knew who he was by the sound of his voice, but at this point, Nomi knew nothing about BPO surprised Will anymore.

“We have Gibbons. You have Wolfgang. I think we can work something out,” Will said.

The Secretary chuckled. “Mr. Gorski, surely you don’t believe we’ll just hand your Cluster-mate over?”

Will looked over at Lito, who shrugged.

Nomi opened her mouth to suggest something, but Will beat her to it, giving her and everyone else a knowing look. It wasn’t exactly a secret how high-up Milton was in BPO’s hierarchy. “You need Milton. I know you do.”

“That may be,” the Secretary drawled, “but Milton’s value to us is nowhere near as high as Mr. Bogdanow’s value to you and your Cluster. Correct me if I’m mistaken.”

Nomi snuck a worried glance at Kala. Kala’s hands were clasped, and she had her eyes closed as her lips moved in silent prayer across the table. After Kala’s last connection to Wolfgang, it was clear he couldn’t withstand torture much longer.

Will sighed, catching on to where Nomi was looking. “Fine. Name your price.”

“I suspect you already know.”

 _Of course_.

From across the room, Riley mirrored Nomi’s frown. She turned and looked at the door behind which Jonas was held captive, biting her bottom lip in anxiety. Sharing a look with Nomi, she turned back to Will and frowned. Lito shook his head.

“I’m not sure I do,” Will replied, pretending to be confused. Lito gave him a nod.

“Jonas Maliki.” The Secretary was impatient now. “I know you’re holding him captive.”

“Let’s assume we are. So what?” Will answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “I have a feeling you two don’t get along.”

There was a pause, before, “His connection to Milton could prove valuable to us.”

“You’re the last person I’d trust with too much power,” Will said.

The Secretary chuckled. “I know a lot about your kind, Mr. Gorski. Your loyalty to your Cluster outweighs your need for leverage. But we don’t operate like you. We can commence our normal operation with or without Milton. He’s not our only Headhunter.”

 _Fuck_ , Will mouthed. He put the receiver on silent and turned to his Cluster.

Nomi shook her head. “This is a trap.”

“But we have no choice,” Lito said.

“We can go in with a war plan,” Sun pointed out.

Capheus sat up in his chair. “Are you suggesting we fight them?”

Sun smiled dangerously. “That is exactly what I’m suggesting.”

Next to Sun, Felix cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

Will looked at everyone, and they looked back, determined. He turned the receiver back on. “Fine,” he answered, trying to sound dejected. “We’ll do what it takes.”

“Is that all, Mr. Gorski?”

“Under two conditions,” Will continued. “You can only bring one van, and we get to choose the time and place.”

“If you wish.”

 _Tomorrow_ , Nomi mouthed, catching Will’s eye. Not likely to be a problem if BPO was really holding Wolfgang somewhere close as she’d suspected, and Nomi was never wrong.

“Tomorrow,” Will said, nodding.

“Tomorrow,” the Secretary conceded. “But rest assured, we will not let your Cluster play us for fools a second time.”

“Too bad,” Lito said with a smirk after Will ended the call. “This is already the third time.”

*

Veronika watched with a raised eyebrow as Dr. Bernard Kolovi, her Secretary, hung up the phone. From the computer screen in front of her, a video of the Saint Petersburg attack replayed itself on loop. She pushed a button from underneath her desk. The blinds behind her raised, revealing the Southwark night scene with all its dazzling lights.

“They wish to trade,” Bernard informed her.

 _Love will be the death of Homo sensorium._ Veronika scoffed. “Under what conditions?”

“One van only. And that they text me the time and location.”

Veronika glanced at the phone he held before turning her gaze to pocket mirror sitting on her desk. She flipped it open in her left hand, dabbing at the corners of her eye with her finger to smear away excess silver eyeshadow in preparation for her meeting. The phone dinged, and Bernard unlocked it, reading the new text with a frown.

“Is it in London?” she asked. Her Secretary nodded. “Good. Send the address to Lila.”

“Are you sure it’s not best to—”

“Send it to Lila,” she repeated. “And prepare a regular van for dispatch. Best to have her Cluster arrive separately.”

“If you insist.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up for a second. She shut her teal Moleskine planner and leaned back in her chair. Crossing her legs, she looked at her hands and examined her new manicure, painted to match the dark cherry shade of her lips.

“Believe me, Bernard,” she said calmly. “Resourceful as we might be, Sensates understand best how to subdue their own kind.”

He nodded. “We need Milton for our next step?”

“Perhaps. Karl already volunteered. But a second mind will work in our favor.”

“And Jonas?”

“He won’t be necessary. But he’ll make a useful distraction.”

She stood up and put on the black trench coat hanging from the back of her chair, adjusting the dagger brooch she kept on the left collar. Then she clapped her hands once. The overhead light dimmed, and she and Bernard gazed at each other in near-darkness save for the small lamp by her computer.

“What for?” he wondered out loud. He tilted his chin down and looked into her eyes, steel blue irises that cut through the shadow. “You wish to keep the hostage?”

The corners of her mouth quirked up again, the smile vanishing in a flash. “Wolfgang and I have a debt to settle.”

He suppressed a look of surprise, but he had never been able to hide from her. Of course, Bernard was unaware of any personal vendetta she had against a petty German locksmith. But he nodded, letting the subject drop. He walked over to the door and held it open, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Veronika returned the nod before she strode past him, her high heels making a staccato on the polished wood of the floor. Before the door swung closed behind them, she snapped her fingers, and the last lamp in the room flickered off.

*

“Tell me about Angelica,” Nomi said to Jonas as soon as she heard Amanita bolt the door from outside.

Nomi heard a faint echo in the back of Jonas’s mind. She was off Blockers, and Jonas’s Blocker had worn off a few minutes ago. She pursed her lips, concentrating on the voice in his mind that uttered Angelica’s name—a voice that sounded like Jonas’s own, accompanied by a feeling of careful hands running across a rough sequoia bark.

“Not going to interrogate me today?” Jonas asked.

Nomi shook her head. Jonas was never going to reveal anything else, and as angry as her Cluster-mates were for his double-cross, none of them wanted to coerce answers out of their old mentor by force. So Nomi latched on to the sensation from the hand touching the tree, the representation of Angelica’s presence in Jonas’s mind.

“I don’t think you intended to sell us to BPO,” Nomi said instead.

Jonas chuckled, and the hand stopped. “What gave it away?”

“It’s not what _she_ would have wanted.” Nomi projected herself into the memory inside Jonas’s head and stood next to Angelica and the giant sequoia. She found herself standing in Jonas’s place. She held out a hand, and her Mother reached out to her.

“I suppose you’re right,” Jonas said after a pause.

“I don’t know why you wanted to protect Whispers, Jonas, and you’ve made it clear you’re not gonna tell us. What’s done is done.” Nomi spoke the last sentence, it sounded like Angelica was saying it with her.

“So why are you here, Nomi?”

Jonas seemed to have detected the shift in her tone. He looked at her with a slight frown. Inside his mind, a barrier of stone rose around Nomi’s form, trapping her hands and arms in place so the Angelica in his memory could not reach her.

Nomi hid her frustration, willing the barrier to stop rising. “Angelica used to work for BPO.”

“Yes.”

“I want to know what made her change her mind.”

“It’s not so much something she’d learned, as something she’d come to understand.”

“About what?” Nomi tried to shake herself loose, but the barrier refused to budge.

“The truth of what BPO, what the Sapiens, wanted to do with the knowledge she’d helped them procure.”

Nomi brought forth the memory Will had shared with them, a memory of Angelica and Milton discussing the future of the neuro graft. _They’re afraid of us,_ Whispers’s voice, the voice that used to haunt their dreams, uttered. _I believe this will make them… Less afraid._

Less afraid, huh? Nomi scoffed.

“BPO owes much of its progress to her,” Jonas continued.

Nomi wondered if Milton had already known what BPO planned to do with the knowledge of the neuro graft. She wondered if Angelica had known by then, too.

Jonas must have detected her doubt. _Angelica would never have allowed it,_ he thought immediately, ever so defensive of the woman he loved. And with that thought, he triggered a memory of their last night in their cabin before he’d lost Angelica to Chicago.

_“I can’t change what I’ve done,” Angelica had said as they lay in bed in the cabin one last time. “But this can’t go on.”_

_“What about this Cluster,” Jonas had asked, stroking her head._

_Angelica smiled wistfully. “Just a few weeks now, I think.”_

_“What about your last?”_

_She’d known for months, but the answer that came out of her mouth felt like a cursed confession. “It’s too late for them.”_

_“This one will be different,” he reassured. Angelica learned from her mistakes. But her optimism had been burned out of her long ago._

_Angelica shook her head. “Kareem will be in touch,” she told Jonas instead, bringing forth the image of their grinning wild-haired Egyptian friend._

Nomi felt the image dissolve before her mind’s eye. She found herself in darkness, surrounded by the chirping of birds. Then she felt a rocky platform grow underneath her feet, pushing her out and away from that memory.

 _“Promise me you’ll fight for them,”_ Nomi heard Angelica whisper before Jonas drove her out.

“How many Clusters did Angelica birth before us?” Nomi asked.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out when it’s time.”

“Time for _what_?”

“The truth.”

Nomi crossed her arms but knew better than to press. “We can’t just let BPO continue to chop up our brains. Angelica didn’t have a chance to fix things, but we do.”

“Are you certain you are ready to face the consequences?”

What would Will say? “I guess we’ll find out when it’s time.”

Jonas chuckled. “Clever, Miss Marks.”

He sounded uncannily like Whispers. And, despite knowing he wasn’t intent on putting them in danger, the remark made the hair stand up on Nomi’s arms.

“I’ve defied the system all my life.” She held back her shudder as she stood, and turned to face him. “I’m not about to stop now.”

 _So much like Angelica,_ she heard Jonas think as she walked out.

*

Kala sat cross-legged in the corner after everyone had fallen asleep, unaware that Riley was watching her.

She was clicking and scrolling between different charts and graphs as she typed frantically into her laptop. Her other hand scratched at the top of her head, making the unruly curls wilder. That, coupled with the black rings under her eyes and the way she muttered to herself, made Kala look like quite the mad scientist.

 _Our mad scientist_ , Riley thought with a smile as she approached her slowly, reaching out a hand to tap Kala on the shoulder. Kala jumped back slightly at the touch, and her head made a thump against the wall. “Ow,” Kala muttered.

“Sorry,” Riley whispered as she sat down beside her, putting a hand behind Kala’s head to massage it. “Aren’t you tired?”

Kala frowned at some dataset she pulled up on her tablet, shaking her head. “I’m having a breakthrough with the formula. I was thinking, after my conversation with Nomi two days ago—I mean from my judgment alone, it doesn’t seem like BPO has figured out we’ve made an injectable form of the Blockers, and that served us well”—she looked up at Riley—“so I thought, perhaps it would be strategic, given that we have to be on the run from BPO after we get Wolfgang back, which we will, I’m certain that we can get him back—”

“We’ll get him back,” Riley reassured. “What were you saying about the Blockers?”

“I’m working on an antidote,” Kala said after pausing for a few seconds to clear up her train of thought. “An injectable one.”

“Why?”

“Well, what if while one of us is on Blocker, we get captured by”—Kala clasped her hands—“BPO. Hypothetically. I’m not saying that we will, nor do I believe we will, but you can never be certain”—she looked at Riley again before she stopped and ran a hand through her hair, which had stuck to the wall with static electricity. “I’m rambling again.”

Riley shook her head and laughed a little, quietly. “Take your time. Will’s got the guarding part covered,” she looked over at the couch where Will sat, and he waved.

“It’s just…” Kala sighed. “I was thinking, what if BPO separates us, and forces us to be on Blockers? Or what if they steal my formula and inject us? If we’re cut off from each other, we need an antidote. A, umm,”—she glanced up at the ceiling in search of the right words—“a secret weapon,” she finished with a mischievous smile.

Riley smiled back. “I like the sound of that.”

“But I’m _stuck_ ,” Kala said. “I’m stuck, but I couldn’t fall asleep earlier, so I thought I may as well try and work around it—”

Kala’s eyes glanced around the room before fixating on the iPod Riley held in her hands. The song was still playing, though Riley had removed her earbuds to talk to Kala.

“What are you listening to?

“Some of my dad’s old recordings. Do you want to share? Maybe it’ll inspire you.”

Riley showed her a song from her dad’s concert in Copenhagen ten years ago. This was her go-to soundtrack during the days she spiraled in and out of her living nightmare. Within minutes, Kala’s head was on Riley’s shoulder, and the light from her laptop dimmed. As Riley beckoned Will over to carry Kala to her mattress, she smiled upon seeing the title of the song: Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major *****.

*

After Will and Riley’s shift ended, Nomi and Sun took over guard duty. They sat on the couch, watching over the front door in case anyone barged in or their prisoners broke out. Trepidation loomed over the room like an ever-vigilant BPO helicopter, the unease apparent even as everyone drifted into a restless sleep.

Instead of worrying about Neets, who had insisted on joining the rescue mission, Nomi decided to check for updates on a certain stubborn detective.

“It’s not safe for him in the hospital,” Sun said as Nomi typed into the bar of the Korean search engine.

“You think your brother’s gonna target him?”

“I know he will.”

“Mun doesn’t seem like he’d cave under blackmail,” Nomi observed.

“He wouldn’t.” Sun agreed. “But he should.”

Mr. Lee, who wanted to defend Sun after her father’s lawyer, had been threatened. She knew Sun was wondering where he was now.

“He didn’t.” Nomi’s voice brought Sun back from her reverie. She pointed at the screen.

 _“Detective Mun Kwon-Ho is in full recovery after his recent injury at the Bak Summer Gala. He has declared that he will testify against the shooter, who he claims to be none other than Bak Joong-Ki, CEO of the Bak Enterprises. However, the Seoul Metropolitan Police have so far failed to procure evidence…”_ the news reporter’s voice echoed through their shared earbuds.

“I couldn’t locate any footage of the shooting either,” Nomi said, turning off the volume. “Everything’s erased. But I know there was a camera behind you at the Gala. I saw it.”

Sun’s hand clenched into a fist. Nomi turned to her.

“Bug’s been keeping an eye out. There’s got to be a copy of the footage somewhere.”

Sun sighed. “He’s going to get himself killed.” _For me,_ Nomi heard her think.

“He’s a survivor,” Nomi reassured with as much certainty as she could muster.

And, looking around the room one last time at the way everyone tossed about uneasily as they dreamed, Nomi wished— _hoped—_ she could say the same for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major was composed by _Wolfgang_ Amadeus Mozart.
> 
> * * *
> 
> This chapter's shorter because we're gonna get some ACTION soon! 
> 
> I might not be able to update as often since I just started my internship yesterday, but we'll see! Hope you enjoy!


	5. Mai soli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang meets up with BPO and shit goes down.
> 
> “We are mai soli. Never alone.”  
> — From S2E8, “All I Want Right Now is One More Bullet”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support! It makes me get up every morning and think "I wanna write my heart out and shout my story from the rooftop". 
> 
> Now, who's ready for some ACTION?

**July 5, 2017**

“Are we in the clear? Do you copy?” Capheus’ voice boomed through the wireless device.

“Yep, we’re here early,” Will confirmed.

Will held back a laugh, shaking his head at Capheus’s impression of what he thought was cop lingo. Next to him in the back of van number one, Nomi and Amanita clutched their hands and looked at each other nervously. Kala had her eyes closed, uttering a silent prayer to Ganesha.

“This is fucking crazy,” Felix said through the wireless. He was speaking from the driver’s seat of van number one. “Fucking crazy. Do you copy?”

There was a deep sigh from Nomi’s end of the four-way communication system. “Are we really making the right choice coming here early? I feel a little exposed.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Will said, more to her in person than through the devices they had clipped to their collars. He tried not to think about the fact that their van was parked within walking distance from the front door of the abandoned warehouse where they’d arranged to meet with BPO.

“You know you have backup,” Capheus chipped in again.

Capheus had driven their second van, with Lito and Sun in tow, into the woods surrounding the warehouse. Their hiding spot was out of sight from the periphery of the warehouse, but close enough to barge in at full speed if something went wrong. There were only two proper roads that led to this warehouse—one on which they’d driven in, and another one behind the back entrance that would work as an exit route. The geographic isolation was one of the reasons Will chose it as the meeting point.

The area around the warehouse was eerily silent. With every passing moment, Will’s anxiety about a potential ambush worsened. He wished he could visit Riley and ask what she thought, but she was trying to contact members of the Archipelago for extra aid.

Nomi seemed to have guessed what was on Will’s mind. “I’m still working around the configurations of the security cameras set in this place,” she told him. “There’s definitely one on the back. I’m trying to turn it on.”

Will was almost certain BPO was waiting for them to make the first move.

He looked at Amanita, who nodded. They stood and grabbed the handles on the stretchers. They’d covered their unconscious hostages in body bags, hoping it would help them stall. Will clung to Jonas’ stretcher extra tight, determined not to give him away to BPO, to hell with what he’d promised to the Secretary. After last night’s discussion, everyone agreed they couldn’t let Jonas go, not after Nomi had gotten a glimpse of how much information they could try and dig up from his mind. Ideally, they’d end up keeping both Jonas and Whispers, but their old mentor was the priority.

They could only hope to out-trap the trapper.

As soon as Will and Amanita wheeled the stretchers out into the open, a van approached them from a hiding point under the shadows on the left side of the warehouse. The van was painted green with the BPO logo on the sides, just as Will and the others had been expecting. Will and Amanita backed up a little, hoping there weren’t more vans to follow.

Thankfully the one and only van stopped, and two Hazsuits, each protected by an armed guard, rolled out a stretcher with a zipped body bag lying on top. The Hazsuits stopped in the middle of the ground between Will’s van and their own, standing a stretcher’s length away from Will and Amanita. The BPO guards pointed their guns at them.

“Open these,” one guard said in what Will thought was a gruff Russian accent.

Amanita crouched down, and, as they’d rehearsed, slowly unzipped the body bag to reveal Milton’s bruised and swollen face. Will didn’t open the bag that contained Jonas.

“You open that first,” Will said, pointing at the stretcher guarded by the Hazsuits.

One Hazsuit was shorter and slimmer than the other. Their frame made them look almost vulnerable. Will wondered if they were like Sun, unassuming but deadly.

The larger Hazsuit grabbed the handle of Milton’s stretcher, yanked it forcefully from Amanita’s hands, and rolled it back into the trunk of the BPO van while the armed guards stood their ground. After they came back out, the smaller Hazsuit began to unzip the body bag they’d brought out.

Will swallowed hard. Beside him, Amanita drew a sharp breath.

It was definitely Wolfgang. But he looked so unlike the quietly intimidating locksmith—he lay on the stretcher without stirring, vulnerably exposing himself at the mercy of the Hazsuits and the guards. BPO clearly didn’t bother cleaning Wolfgang up. He was put into the body bag in the state they’d found him in. Dried blood was crusting around his nose and chin, and the rings around his eyes were a sickly purple.

“It’s him.”

Will’s voice was hoarse when he spoke to Nomi through the wireless device again. He heard three sharp breaths drawn from the other recipients, followed by a curse from Felix.

Will knew Felix would have joined the fight if they’d let him, but Wolfgang would have killed him for putting his friend in danger. It was almost too lucky that Felix happened to know how to drive a van. Apparently, he’d picked the skill up in the spur of the moment after a particularly bountiful theft years ago.

The BPO guards inched closer to Will and Amanita. They nodded at the still zipped bag in front of Will, training both guns on him.

“ _Gee_ , okay, fine,” Will said in a dramatic tone, particularly loudly so everyone could hear through the wireless.

Felix had left the driver’s window in the van open just enough for the mouth of a gun to peek through the top. The guards realized a second too late that Will’s latest statement was a cue. As they aimed their guns at the front of the van, they were shot in the thigh. Will finished Felix’s job as the guards fell to the ground from their injuries.

Amanita aimed her gun at the Hazsuits, who took out their own guns from their side pocket and prepared to took aim. She cursed and fired at the larger one, but missed, and was about to duck when she realized the smaller Hazsuit’s gun wasn’t aimed at her.

With a thud, the larger Hazsuit fell to the ground. Blood seeping through the bullet hole on their hood. The smaller Hazsuit pivoted on the spot and took off towards the woods on the opposite side of the warehouse before Will or Amanita could shoot her, far from where Capheus’ van was hiding.

Will pushed Amanita behind him as she recovered from the shock, and he shot at the six hidden guards that now stormed out from the back of the BPO van. Kala ran out of their van and grabbed the stretcher that held Wolfgang. Amanita was prompted back into action by the sudden movement. She grabbed Jonas’ stretcher and followed Kala back to their van. A bullet swished past Will’s ear, too close for comfort, and Amanita turned and tossed him her gun. He caught it and aimed at the BPO guards with two hands—

“Umm, Will?” Nomi’s shaky voice cut through the wireless as the last guard collapsed to the ground. “Camera’s on. There’s a silver minivan hidden in the back.”

The minivan in question sped into view as Nomi spoke—not a BPO van, but a typical household one. The side door slid open. The driver of the green BPO van rushed out to help the new arrivals get out, and Will, who’d forgotten to account for the driver, shot at him frantically with the gun he held on his right hand, tossing it aside when it was empty.

Will fired bullets at the still-moving second van with the remaining gun in his left hand, exhausting all the three bullets he had left. But he couldn’t see if he’d shot anyone. It was too dark to see what—or who—was inside the silver van.

 _Fuck_.

Nomi must have signaled Capheus, because the next thing Will knew, Capheus was driving his van straight into the seven people leaping out of the silver minivan, never mind that these seven people were all aiming their guns at the driver’s window, trying to take Capheus down. Capheus kept his head ducked low and belted out a battle cry as he sped up and charged past at full-force.

Four of the people from the silver van fell on the ground and scrambled back on all fours to avoid being hit. Three leaped up and moved out of the way as soon as Capheus drove past, threatening to run them over: a man with shoulder-length hair and dark sunglasses, a woman with silky black hair and a leather vest.

And Lila Facchini.

Sun’s form appeared next to Will. She looked him in the eye. He nodded.

They shared, feeling their synapses make quick contact in the Psycellium, buzzing with anticipation. Will felt Sun take control of his limbs. Both of them saw through his eyes. Sun curled his right hand into a fist and slammed it against Lila’s cheekbone, then swiped his leg and tripped Lila over. Sun helped Will hold back the people in Lila’s group one at a time as all remaining six charged at him, kicking the guns out of their hands and using their bodies to shield oncoming attacks from the others.

Will heard the rev of an engine behind him, and the real Sun jumped from the back door of Capheus’ van that drove past again, straight into the heat of the battle next to him. He and Sun fought back to back, mindful of the sound of a gun going off behind them. It was Lito, shooting into the dark to try and ward their attackers away. Lito, of course, couldn’t risk hitting his Cluster-mates, so most of the bullets thudded against the side of the silver van. Without their guns, Lila and her team stood no chance against Sun—

“Six more vans coming in from the back!” Nomi shouted from the first van, through the wireless. “We need to get out of here _now_!”

Will heard tires screeching behind him. He turned in time to see Lito holding the door of the door open as Capheus’s circled the van back to pick them up. Will and Sun ran to catch up. They jumped inside, and Lito bolted the door behind him. Sun patted Will on the back as they sat down.

“Good work.” She smiled dangerously.

“Full speed ahead!” Capheus shouted through the wireless.

Will, wedged safely between Sun and Lito, felt the van swerve and then shoot straight for the road. Will visited Capheus at the driver’s seat and looked into the side view mirrors, cursing when he saw three BPO vans following them, including the silver one that contained Lila and—her Cluster? He didn’t have time to guess.

It was only as they drove away that Will remembered Milton was still locked up in a BPO van. _Fuck_. They couldn’t risk their lives to get back and grab him now.

*

In the first van, Felix shifted the gears into the place as Nomi called Hernando and Dani back at their hideout to inform them of the situation. He put his hands on the driver’s wheel and was about to step on the gas pedal and follow Capheus’ van onto the road—

When he felt the mouth of a gun press against his temple.

“Drive!” a young woman with an American accent shouted. “Go in the opposite direction, for Pete’s sake! You wanna lose ‘em, not lead ‘em back to your hideout!”

Felix jumped back in his seat. He hit his head on the backboard that separated the back of the van from the driver’s area. He was too appalled by his predicament to notice the light spots that now danced in the forefront of his vision.

He turned the wheel and stepped onto the pedal without a second thought, driving straight into the woods as the uneven ground below bumped against the tires. Three green BPO vans followed behind his van, according to a glimpse in the side view mirrors, but all his eyes could pay attention to was the young woman with the gun sitting on the seat next to him, her dark hair blending in with the black hoodie she was wearing.

She pressed her gun against Felix’s temple again. “This _is_ a car chase, F-Y-I,” she snapped, exasperated, “so stop gawking at me like a goldfish, and go ditch those vans! Go!”

Felix sped up and weaved the van through the trees in front of him, not knowing where he was but not intending to stop. He heard bullets thumping against the sides of the van and thanked Conan that Will always prepared for the worst. The vans they’d rented with the creepy white-haired dude’s credit card were sturdy enough to survive most bullets.

“W-who-” his voice was high-pitched as he panicked—“who the fuck are you?”

The woman held up a Hazmat suits mask in her free hand and shook it in front of Felix’s face. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one who saved your asses, _Felix_ ,” she shouted. “Shut up now and thank me later!”

Nomi’s frantic shouting from the wireless device became a blur as Felix’s ears filled with the sound of his heartbeats.

*

Will, Lito, and Sun managed to lose the BPO vans on their trail after a few hours of Capheus’s mad driving techniques, which he apparently copied from _Hard Target_. Lito buried his head in his arms and waited to hear from Felix, while Sun sat stoically still and closed her eyes, trying to visit Nomi. Will looked on anxiously between them.

“What’s happening?” Riley visited a few minutes later, sitting down next to Will.

“Some Hazsuit snuck into Felix’s van with a gun. She’s not shooting anyone. Yet,” Will added when she gasped. “They’re trying to lose the BPO people on their trail. But we need to be prepared to catch this hijacker after we get back to the base.”

Riley nodded and left to inform Hernando and Dani of their plan.

*

Meanwhile, in Felix’s van, everyone looked on anxiously at the panel that separated Felix from the back. Amanita, Nomi, and a visiting Sun fell into a whispered discussion with Will through the wireless, mindful of the possibility that the hijacker was listening in. Kala held Wolfgang’s hand as he stirred. Jonas’ stretcher lay next to his, forgotten.

“K-Kala,” Wolfgang whispered, sounding strained.

His eyes were still closed, and his head was lolling from side to side. Kala reached out a hand to steady him underneath his head, holding it in place. A fresh drop of blood was trailing from the corner of his mouth, and she used a thumb to wipe it away, holding in her tears.

“I’m here,” she whispered, leaning in closer. Amanita handed her some napkins, and she dabbed at Wolfgang’s chin, trying to clean off the dried blood.

“‘M sorry,” Wolfgang mumbled.

“Don’t.”

Kala’s voice shook. She kissed him to keep him from apologizing again. His skin was clammy, and the sweat that covered his face was ice cold. She put the napkins away and tugged at the zipper of his body bag to close it around him like a makeshift blanket. The fabric brushed against his chest.

“Hurts,” Wolfgang whispered.

“I’m sorry.” It was her turn to apologize now. She laid his head down again, freeing her hands to take off her yellow cardigan and put it carefully over his chest.

His eyes opened a little. Kala noted that his pupils were still partially dilated as a result of whatever sedative BPO had given him. But the blue of his irises was just as she remembered, the color of glacier melting under warm currents. He reached for her hand. She laced their fingers together.

“Cold,” he muttered with a pained frown.

Nomi and Amanita unzipped their own jackets before Kala even turned to ask. Sun began unbuttoning hers, too, before she remembered she was visiting.

Wolfgang shook his head slightly and squeezed her hand. “ _You_. Cold.”

Kala shook her head and moved her hand away, laying Nomi’s jacket on top of her cardigan on Wolfgang’s chest. He closed his eyes again, and she lifted his head to put Amanita’s folded hoodie underneath it like a pillow.

“‘M sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible as he drifted off.

*

Felix trembled as he made a turn in the direction of their hideout per the hijacker’s instruction after what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t look to his left at all if he could help it, though he was mindful of the woman’s warm breath somewhere near his ear, in contrast with the cold metal of the gun pressed against his temple.

“You still with us, Felix?” Amanita asked through the wireless.

The hijacker smirked and leaned in closer until her nose was a mere inch from Felix’s face. “Well, go on, then. She wants to know if you’re alive, or if some ghost is driving this van. That’d be creepy.”

“I-I’m here,” Felix replied.

“And _you_ ,” Amanita said, presumably addressing the hijacker, the ex-Hazsuit, the whatever-she-was. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m more of a ‘do now and explain later’ type of girl.” The hijacker flashed a cheeky smile. “So let’s get back to your secret lair before you flood me with questions, ‘kay?”


	6. What we live for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonas finally explains himself, and Wolfgang is safe.
> 
> “There’s a huge difference between what we work for and what we live for.”  
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn't Let You Say Goodbye”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the nice reviews. You people make me smile :)
> 
> There are a few foreign words in this chapter. I used Google to do all the research, and you know how reliable it is when it comes to translations! So if I got them wrong, please tell me before I embarrass myself further.
> 
> Now, WHO'S READY FOR SOME ANSWERS?

**July 5, 2017 (cont’d)**

The moment Felix stopped the van outside the isolated parking space within walking distance of the two-bedroom hideout, Sun pinned the hijacker against the front of the car as Will cuffed her hands behind her back. Amanita searched her and pulled out two passports from the inside pocket of her hoodie—one American, one British. And, tucked in a sewn-in pocket inside the woman’s right boot, was an ultra-thin switchblade.

“You went to get your _bag_?” Will asked after he finished checking the inside of the van where she’d sat, waving the camper-style backpack.

“It’s called an emergency supply,” the hijacker said, watching him examine her blade, not protesting as Will pressed his gun against her head. “And I never thought I’d be arrested for saving you from certain death, _Officer Gorski_.”

Will would have wondered how she knew his name, but he’d grown accustomed to people knowing more about him than he was comfortable with.

“What’s this?” Will examined the switchblade Amanita handed him.

“I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of weapons. What’s it look like?”

“I know you,” Kala said as she walked back out into the parking area. “You were _there_. You were with Wolfgang. Your accent—”

The hijacker smirked. “You guys aren’t the only ones living two lives.”

“You work for BPO.”

“Worked. I’m sure they’ll be _thrilled_ to have me back after I shot old Dobson back there.”

“You’re a Sensate?” Will asked.

“Jonas hasn’t told you about me?” She watched everyone gawk at each other and rolled her eyes. “ _Ha_. Typical Jonas.”

“What’s Jonas got to do with you?”

“Everything. And I’m not saying this to be vague. That’s more his thing. I meant _everything_. Why I’m here, why you’re gonna be stuck here… All the stuff he should have told you but”—she looked at them again—“probably didn’t?”

“Enlighten us, then,” Will said, leveling his face so he could meet her eyes.

She laughed. “It’s lovely getting to know all of you, really. But shouldn’t we take this inside? And go wake Jonas up. He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

*

When The Guy had asked Nomi for a favor in exchange for the E-Death “in the name of veracity ***** ”, no one in her Cluster had thought he meant it literally. But this revelation was far from the craziest they had that day.

“You literally haven’t told them anything?” the woman interrupted as Jonas opened his mouth to explain what Veracity was, making a big show of putting a hand on her face.

“If you asked them to wake me up, _Mavis_ ,” Jonas uttered her name with more annoyance than the Cluster thought he was capable of, “you should let me speak.”

“Haven’t done much of that lately, have you?”

“Your name is _Mavis Fowler_ ******?” Amanita interrupted as she examined the American and British passports they’d found on the hijacker. The last name on her British passport was Yang—the name on her BPO uniform, Kala had told them before she went back into the room to check on Wolfgang.

Mavis smirked. “Yeah, my stepdad picked it. He loves his irony.”

Jonas cleared his throat, and Mavis gestured for him to continue. “Veracity is an organization that knows the truth about _Homo sensorium_ and BPO, and how their mission changed over the years.”

“How?” Nomi asked. “How did they find out?”

Jonas chuckled. “You of all people should know. Most of them are Sapien hackers and ex-military volunteers. Veracity has many resources at their disposal, though many world governments are less than friendly with them.”

“Yeah. Vigilantes, renegade hackers, whatever they call themselves,” Mavis added. “And they picked Veracity ‘cause it started with a V, and it gives them an excuse to wear those creepy clown masks. They’re big on aesthetics.”

Jonas shushed her with a glare, then continued, “Veracity has informants inside BPO, mainly to assist with data concealment. Erasing genetic testing records of people with _Homo sensorium_ alleles.”

“And sell drugs—”

“The informants also provide a portion of their Blockers ration to the Archipelago,” Jonas amended. “The chemists in the trade replicate the new capsules for distribution.”

“Like Puck,” Riley recalled. Jonas nodded.

“I joined this organization shortly before Angelica birthed her last Cluster,” Jonas continued. “I had intended to assist them in protecting all Clusters, yours included. But the plan for your Cluster changed after you escaped the Iceland facility.”

“They know about us?” Will asked.

“Oh yeah. The one and only August 8 Cluster. Heroes of the hour,” Mavis told him. Jonas sighed and turned to her, ready to chastise her again for interrupting. She made a zipping motion with her hand in front of her lips.

“Wait, if they’ve got more than one spy inside BPO, where _the hell_ were they when Whispers was breathing down our necks?” Will asked in a terse voice, standing up. Riley put an arm around his shoulder, whispered into his ears and pushed him back down on the couch.

“Making tea, probably. Or cleaning Headhunter blood off the walls.” Mavis winked at Will, not bothered at all by the accusation.

“I had been trying to secure my position inside the organization after Croome, our most resourceful ally, was killed,” Jonas explained. “The other informants had heard rumors that the Sapiens were planning to attack major cities around the world, but none of them were in a high enough position to gather anything concrete. I was working to gain the Chairman’s trust.” He turned to Will. “I said you would not understand why I made my decisions.”

Mavis muttered something under her breath that sounded like “gee, I wonder why”.

“It would appear that with Wolfgang’s capture and the rumored attacks, coupled with my newfound predicament”—Jonas glanced at the door behind which he used to be held captive—“Veracity had decided to take a more risky approach?” He turned to Mavis.

“Kareem,” she said, looking down at her hands and frowning.

“What about him?”.

She sighed. “Why do you think they’d let me watch Wolfgang, Jonas? Or escort him tonight? Kareem volunteered for me to turn him in as a Blocker trader.” She swallowed. “That’s how I got those Sapiens to trust me.”

Jonas swallowed hard at that; the Egyptian man was one of his oldest friends. They’d known each other since their university days.

“They said they’ll try and get him out,” she quickly reassured after seeing the change in his expression. “He just, well, he has to stall, so they don’t—I mean it shouldn’t be too hard with his skills…” her voice grew quieter.

“What do we do now?” Lito asked, bringing the two out of their reverie. Dani and Hernando each clutched one of his hands and looked between him and Jonas, the worry clearly etched on their faces.

“This is the war you were talking about?” Sun asked Jonas, looking between the two Veracity informants.

Mavis nodded. “The point of no return.”

Jonas sighed, closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” she continued when she realized Jonas was in no mood to speak. “I’ll text the Guys, see if they can find us a new hideout.”

*

 _July 6th. United States._ Veronika circled the date in her planner. Tomorrow’s launching was one she’d been anticipating for months. The lab tests had yielded fantastic results, but everything would be much more exciting, she knew, when the Reciphorum was unleashed into the real world.

North America had always been a tricky terrain to cover, with all the underground Blocker traders BPO had so far failed to capture. Nonetheless, she’d received sufficient funding from Bak and Kapoor to execute the current operation, and Velásquez had always been reliably punctual about importing from her stock. His friend and business partner, Señor Flores, met with her at Leicester Square the day before to inform her that the new product had been successfully distributed in a wide range across California by their dealers.

It was nearly time to commence.

The Reciphorum would sweep through the nation like a tornado, drawing out the Sensates in hiding underground. Veronika’s favorite thing about Velásquez was that he never asked follow-up questions. The less he knew about the products, he’d told her, the more smoothly their transactions would go. His only priority was to sell what people wanted, and he was confident the newest addition to his inventory would be sensational.

The corners of her mouth quirked up for a second as her signature cursive glided across the line again. _Inform Bernard of new development,_ the print-worthy calligraphic letters said.

The impending plan was, in fact, almost flawless enough to take her mind off the fact that Lila’s Cluster had failed entirely in their pursuit. It was too bad, really. She was beginning to see the Neapolitan as a beneficial asset to her operation.

Lila reminded Veronika of herself. She, too, used to believe she could have everything, but now she knew the only way she could have the world at her mercy was to turn it against itself while she watched the destruction from above. The younger woman would have been a potential successor to her operation, had she not been a Sensate.

Admittedly, she didn’t expect Wolfgang’s escort to betray her, though in hindsight she suspected a twenty-one-year-old couldn’t have acted on her own behalf. She wrote down a reminder to tell Karl to make haste with the Egyptian’s interrogation.

It wasn’t so much the other seven Sensates she wanted to capture; she was certain Milton could locate them, now that he was back from sabbatical. But she no longer had Wolfgang at her disposal, and that loss was frustrating enough for her to mull over for days to come.

Veronika learned from her mistakes. And she was sure Lila would, too, once she gave the younger woman a little more motivation.

 _I will find Wolfgang and make him pay_ , she reassured herself. _I will find him like I found_ her.

*

**July 6, 2017**

“ _The Guys_ have found the solution to our problems,” Mavis informed them after hearing the chime on her phone. And, as everyone glared at her to cut the drama, “The new hideout! We’re meeting someone tonight to get the address.”

“I’ll go,” Amanita volunteered immediately. Nomi nodded as well.

“Mm.” Mavis tilted her head and looked at the group. “I appreciate the spirit, but BPO knows about you two. Any of you _not_ wanted by the authorities or Headhunters?”

Hernando and Dani looked at each other.

“No, _no_ ,” Lito said with a vigorous shake of his head. He knew he couldn’t escort them personally if the newfound fans swarming around him when he got off his flight two weeks ago were any indication.

“Lito, we wanna help.” Dani grabbed his forearm arm and swung it back and forth. She looked at him, keeping her eyes wide open and her bottom lip jutted out.

“Dani”—Lito tried again, caving under the puppy dog face.

“Baby, _please_?” Hernando approached him from the other side.

“One of you,” he gave in, feigning annoyance at the way his family ganged up against him. “Not both. _One_.”

Dani let out an excited squeal and turned to Hernando, who conceded with a sigh.

“Someone else should go with her as a lookout,” Mavis said.

“I volunteer as the lady’s escort.” Felix waved his arm dramatically. Dani rolled her eyes.

“I can go,” Sun declared, coming to Dani’s aid. Capheus voiced the same thought.

“Okay, BPO may not be onto you two, but I can’t say the same for, oh I don’t know, _your entire country_?” Mavis reminded them. “Felix it is.”

Then she looked at the address Veracity sent her. “Oh, look at that! They wanna meet at some fancy bar in Soho,” she teased, showing them pictures. “It’s a date!”

Lito threw her a death glare. She put her hands up in the air as if under arrest. “It’s alright, superstar,” she said, “I’ll make sure they behave themselves.”

“Hang on”—Amanita started. Mavis smirked, knowing what she was about to say, and ducked under the couch. She fished out her bag and opened the zipper, pulling out a bleached blonde wig.

“I wouldn’t go full-on vigilante without bringing my emergency supply,” she told them. Then she pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick. “Felix, you’re gonna need some of this.”

Felix, who had been beaming like he’d just stolen a real gold watch, gawked at Mavis and opened his mouth to protest—

“I’m kidding,” she singsonged. Then she pulled out a traveler’s pack of hair dye. “But how would you like to be a brunette?”

*

“Where is she, Bernard?” Lila stormed into the professor’s office without knocking, platform heels clanking against the wooden floor.

“Veronika is currently preoccupied with the oncoming operation,” he answered, unfazed by the intrusion. “You have caught me just in time, Miss Facchini.”

“Not _her_ ,” Lila slammed her hands on his desk and towered over him, looking into his eyes. “Sylvie. You sent her to the medical professionals. Now what? _Where have you moved her_?”

“And what,” the professor asked as he put on his jacket and closed his laptop, “made you think we have transferred your Cluster-mate anywhere?”

Lila scoffed. “You’re keeping her sedated.”

“Miss Mwela was in need of surgery. Surely you know she’d be put under anesthetics?”

“For twenty hours?” She walked around the desk to stand right in front of the professor, crossing her arms.

“She is currently detained for medical reasons. Veronika doesn’t believe she’ll be healed in time for your next mission.”

“But where is she?”

“Secure. Worry not, none of your enemies would be able to find her.”

She glared. The professor put his laptop in his briefcase and turned off the lamp on his desk.

“I want to see her,” she insisted.

“You will be able to visit her when wakes.”

But she couldn’t trust anything he said. BPO had already forced her Cluster’s hands twice. She scoffed again in disbelief. He ignored her as he made his way to the door. “Fuchs has been expecting you?”

“Sebastian’s starting believe I’ve abandoned him,” Lila said as she followed him out, cooing at her boss’ attempt to show his feelings.

He kept walking. “Go back to him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

He paused to press the elevator button.“Veronika also asks that you assist him in eliminating Khalil Dogan.” The elevator door opened. He stepped inside, and she walked in after him.

 _He’s still going after the other King, then._ She clucked her tongue, not at all surprised by Sebastian’s recklessness. “Does her majesty have any more orders for me?”

He pressed the button to the ground floor. “Remember where your loyalty lies. Veronika will not tolerate another attempt at undermining her authority.”

 _We could have had everything._ Lila gritted her teeth as she recalled how Wolfgang blatantly insulted her offer and turned his gun on her.

“Understood.” She tried to keep the hostility in her voice at bay. She took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her black jumpsuit, preparing to light one when she got outside.

As they made their ways to the lobby, a man in a suit collected the briefcase in his hand and escorted him into a black car waiting outside.

“Veronika is expecting me in Chicago. See you soon, Lila.”

*

Felix watched as Kala held out a gentle hand to check Wolfgang’s pulse. She pulled up the blanket that covered his body and bit her lip at the sight of purple veins bulging on the surface of his chest, marred by bruises from the paddles. She didn’t dare touch him again in case the pain woke him up.

Kala had injected Wolfie with a carefully measured dose of some drug—she’d told him the name, but Felix had always been shit at chemistry. He was glad enough knowing they got Wolfie back before he was gonna become one of those Bolger things.

Felix pushed the image of his best friend with a scar across his forehead away, shuddering as he wondered what he would have done if he found his friend in that zombie state.

 _I’m going to fucking kill those Headhunters,_ he’d promised as soon as he saw the state of Wolfie last night, all gray-tinged skin and ragged breaths. Then he’d taken one look into Kala’s eyes and concluded she would most likely beat him to it. Whatever she planned to do to them, he hoped she’d let him watch.

Kala muttered in Hindi under her breath as she laid a wet towel across Wolfgang’s forehead, and he stirred slightly, furrowing his brows. Felix wondered if that was how Wolfgang had felt when he was the one lying unconscious. Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty that he’d faked being out cold for a few more days to mess with him.

Kala turned to him. “You should get some sleep,” she said quietly in German. Felix did a double-take before he remembered it was night time, and she was off Blockers. This language switching thing made his fucking brain hurt.

“I could say the same for you,” he answered after the pause, noting the dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t vanished since the day he met her.

Then there was a thumping sound. They turned to see Wolfgang scrambling to back away from the foot of the bed. His arms shook under his weight and slid. Kala caught him right before his head was going to hit the headboard.

“K-Kala,” he rasped before coughing. Felix froze in his chair at the sight of blood sliding down the corner of his mouth. Kala, on the other hand, propped up the pillows on the bed with a steady hand and leaned Wolfgang back. She dabbed at his mouth with the towel on his head, which had fallen off when he jolted.

“I’m here,” she whispered, leaning in close. “Shh, you’re okay.” She put the towel away and started smoothing his hair back, her fingers massaging his scalp. He drew back from her hand as his eyes opened wide, pupils dilating as he struggled to drift out of unconsciousness. She felt his mind graze against hers like a calloused hand.

“P-please,” Wolfgang murmured, “please st-stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Kala immediately drew back and sat at the edge of the bed, though her mind continued to reach out. She put her hand on top of his, slowly, but he pushed it away. Her lips trembled as she suppressed a look of hurt.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked in a shaky voice as she inched away from where she sat. He furrowed his brows but didn’t answer. She could hear his thoughts, words mixed together in a medley of syllables.

Felix walked closer and sat down on the other side of the bed. “Hey, Wolfie, it’s me,” he said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“H-he knows,” he muttered in German, shutting his eyes again as he winced. “H-hurts. T-tried to k-keep him away. But hurt me. Too much. I can’t… h-he found you.”

The image of the scarred blonde Headhunter appeared in Kala’s mind, and she let out a sob. Felix swore as he realized what Wolfie was talking about. “You’re not in fucking BPO anymore,” Felix’s voice shook too. He cleared his throat. “Pelzer’s not here.”

“No. N-Not gone. Always here.” Wolfgang raised a shaky hand and pointed at the top of his head before his arm fell limp. _Here. In here,_ his voice, no longer muddled, continued to explain in Kala’s mind.

 _He can’t reach you, Wolfgang,_ she thought back.

“P-Please, stop, stop,” his inhaled sharply and started coughing again. _Please. No more._ Black swirls loomed over his consciousness like a cyclone, and in his mind’s eye he was spinning, the movement aggravating the pain in his chest.

She stood and put a hand behind his back, rubbing circles as her other hand caressed his face. “It’s me, Wolfgang. It’s me.” She reached into the center of his mind, steadying her presence against the wind that threatened to push her consciousness away.

“He’s—he’s here. Go, safer for you,” he mumbled. _Can’t let him find you,_ he thought, the voice barely louder than a whisper. To Kala, it sounded like an old radio, the static drowning out his words. But every sound struck a pang in her heart.

 _You’re safe_ , she thought back as she kissed him gently, tasting metal. The hand that caressed his face reached for the towel again, dabbing at the fresh blood streaming from his nose. _You’re safe with me. I promise._

His mind stopped spinning, and the darkness cleared. Kala imagined rain filling in the empty space as she recalled a memory of warm drizzles on a Sunday morning. He opened his eyes slowly, and his pupils drew into focus.

“You’re _here,_ ” he concluded after his hand touched her arm.

She smiled through her tears and put the towel away, before grabbing his hand. “I am.”

“Well, fuck, so am I, Wolfie,” Felix chipped in from behind her. She didn’t notice he’d come over. Wolfgang raised his chin slightly and gave his friend a big grin. Felix snorted. Wolfie only used to grin like that when he was fucking drunk.

“F-Felix,” he said, slurring at the last syllable.

Then he turned to look at Kala again. He let go of her hand and reached a shaky arm behind her waist, drawing her close. She let him move her and found her face buried in the crook of his neck, which she kissed. He hummed as the corners of his mouth quirked up again.

“You motherfucker.” Felix threw his arms up. “I went across half of fucking Europe for you, and you ditch me for the pretty lady.”

Kala smiled at Felix in apology as Wolfgang pulled her close next to him with a strained groan from exertion, ever so protectively. She lay on her side to face him as he drew her away from the edge of the bed.

 _Stay_ , she heard him think. She nodded, carefully putting a little distance between her body and his chest. His hand was stroking her hair now, careful not to hook his finger against a stray curl and tug too hard.

She heard Felix close the door as she took in the sight of her _bhediya_ , eyes closed, brows no longer furrowed, lips curled up into a dimpled smile reserved just for her. His breaths still came out ragged, but the rhythm slowed as he lost himself in her memory of rain in Mumbai. He drifted back into a sedative-induced slumber as the new dose Kala had injected earlier kicked into effect.

 _I’ll keep you safe, Schatz_ , she heard him think as his consciousness flickered out of reach.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Quoted from the show: “Nothing venal, vile or vainglorious. Rather a vital vertex of virtue, valor and virtuosity _in the name of veracity_.”
> 
>  ******  Mavis is a type of songbird, and Fowler means “bird hunter”.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Glossary** :
> 
> Schatz = A common German endearment which literally means “treasure”.
> 
> Bhediya = "Wolf" in Hindi.
> 
> * * *
> 
> For all you Verner shippers out there, next chapter's gonna be a real treat!


	7. Secret agent man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a certain Sapien duo goes on an undercover mission, and Karl finds a new way to deal with his prisoner.
> 
> “Secret agent man,  
> secret agent man.  
> They've given you a number   
> and taken away your name.”  
> — From “Secret Agent Man”, by The Ventures (S2E2)
> 
> **TW for depictions of torture.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys are curious about Mavis and crazy about Verner. Which is why this chapter got away from me, haha! And I am addicted to comments because you people are the sweetest :)

**July 6, 2017 (cont’d)**

“ _The Bug_ has uncovered the truth,” the melodramatic voice echoed through Nomi’s speaker. Sun and Amanita sat next to Nomi at the kitchen table, all eyes fixed on the screen.

“Bug,” Amanita warned. Nomi chuckled.

“Right, right, no drama.” He raised his hands up in surrender.

Sun raised an eyebrow.

“What he meant to say is”—Nomi came to his aid—“he found the deleted footage from the Bak Summer Gala. There was a camera behind you.”

“Those who are guilty of violating the moral law always cover their tracks,” Bug drawled as he opened his eyes wide and stared at the video cam. “But _The Bug_ has uncovered them from the evildoer’s personal hard drive.”

Sun opened her mouth and closed it again. She frowned as she searched for words of gratitude, and finally had to decide on a simple, “Thank you, Bug.”

“ _The Bug_ is happy to serve in the name of justice.”

A smirking Amanita turned to Sun. “I think it’s time for a good samaritan to tip off the Seoul Metropolitan Police.”

*

Felix felt like a secret agent.

A dashingly handsome, mysterious secret agent with slicked-back dark brown hair and a pair of sunglasses more expensive than his apartment. The suit jacket he borrowed from Lito fit more like a black overcoat on his gangly frame, with the shoulder pads jutting out like epaulets. Thankfully he had enough sense to pack his one and only white shirt, he thought as he looked at Dani, who was sitting next to him, pinning her hair into a twisted updo.

It was Salsa Night at the bar, Mavis had told them as she dyed Felix’s hair. Dani had watched with a giggle she didn’t bother suppressing as he cringed at his reflection. Then the ex-spy had reminded them that it was a classy, upscale sort of place, and they were expected to dress like they were “fancy rich people”.

Upon hearing this, Dani had immediately pulled out a dress from her suitcase: red, single-strapped, with a flowing ankle-length skirt that had a slit down the right side. _Wherever you go, always bring heels and a red dress,_ Mads, Dani’s college roommate and best friend, had advised at the start of freshman year. And she had lived by this, she told Felix, even after they’d fallen out of touch.

Felix, on the other hand, had cursed himself for not packing the one nice suit he’d bought with the diamond money.

Capheus drove the rental car to the Soho bar. Mavis sat in the passenger seat, giving him directions from her phone. “Drop me off here,” she told him when they were three blocks away. She turned back to Felix and Dani and said, “You guys can get off at the front door. Best if we don’t all barge in together like some kind of shady entourage.”

Then she put on her own pair of sunglasses, adjusted her blonde wig, and stepped out of the car. Her hands tugged at the hem of her simple black dress to adjust it before she began walking. Felix watched her take careful steps down the road in borrowed high heels, swearing when she almost fell sideways into a tree.

When Dani and Felix entered the bar, music was already playing. The middle section had been cleared, and the tables were pushed aside to allow room for dancing. Most of the people were having a blast on the dance floor, and everyone else sat scattered around the bar table or inside the cushiony booths near the wall.

Felix took off his sunglasses and nodded with approval at the sight of couples swaying wildly to the beat. Mavis had already arrived long before. She looked at them from where she sat at the bar, sipping at a glass of the house wine. They locked eyes for a few seconds before she turned away to chat with the bartender, writing in a notepad she’d brought.

 _I always add a bit of backstory to my disguises,_ Mavis had told them as they entered the car earlier that evening. _It makes it more fun. Tonight I’m a writer, people-watching at the bar to gather inspiration for my next novel._

Felix raised his chin and held out a hand to Dani.

“We need to blend in,” he said in a conspiratorial stage-whisper as he nodded at the crowded dance floor, removing his borrowed suit jacket to put on the back of a chair.

Dani raised her eyebrow and pulled off the black scarf she was using as a cardigan to lay on his suit before accepting his hand.

Felix pulled her in just as the next song was starting. He had never shied away from dancing. At clubs, Felix always made his way to the center of the floor. Though he’d never been professionally trained—who the fuck had time for that?—he always danced with endless energy, flailing his arms wildly, exaggerating his steps as he stomped around. The ladies found it entertaining, and that was all that mattered.

But tonight, as Dani pulled Felix to the center of the dance floor when a new song began, he found himself in a daze. Dani twirled around him, a whirlwind of black hair and scarlet satin. He’d expected this dance to be like the ones he did with those easygoing ladies at his favorite clubs. His eyes widened as he saw Dani’s feet stepping around his in perfect rhythm. All _he_ could do was make sure he didn’t trip over her legs. Or his own.

She paused and pulled him close, still swaying. “You okay?” she asked, her tone taunting. “Am I going too fast for you?”

“ _Pfft_ , no,” he bluffed, trying not to pant. “One thing you should know about me, Dani, I like things intense.”

“Good.” She smirked. “I was saving the best part for last.”

He swore under his breath as she led them back and forth. Her fingers gripped behind his back and at his shoulder as she spun them around, pulling him close to her and then pushing him back as they side-stepped in a who-knows-what formation. His leg muscles protested at the swiftness in which she made them move as he glanced down at his feet every other second to make sure he wasn’t about to stomp on her toes.

When he lost balance and his face nearly planted into her shoulder, she laughed and finally slowed down for him to catch up.

She loosened the arm around his waist, putting a bit of distance between them so he could see her steps more clearly. Then she took a simple step to the left and nodded at him encouragingly. He followed her lead and scrunched his brows in concentration as he tried and failed to discern a pattern in the movement.

“How the fuck do you remember these things?” he asked as she grabbed his hand and leaned back with a toss of her head, before pulling herself toward him again.

She smirked, putting a hand on his shoulder again. “I don’t. I’m more of an improviser.”

Then she told him to hold on to her hand, and she twirled outwards. He tugged, and she spun back. He caught her with a swift arm around her waist.

“See, you’re getting it.” She winked.

He grinned as the music was drawing to an end. He looked down at her feet, then up at her face, his head bobbing back and forth as he tried to figure out what to do next. But his own footsteps came a bit more easily now, filling the space around hers. Call it muscle memory.

Felix nearly collapsed into Dani when the song stopped, but he forced himself to stay upright and flash her a smile.

“ _Dios mío_ , it’s hot in here,” she said as they walked off and another pair took their place.

She fanned the air into her neck with her hands and let out a deep exhale. Her forehead shimmered under the layer of sweat, making her glow in the dim blue lights of the bar. He watched her grab the black silk scarf she used as a cardigan and flap it against her back to cool herself down, while he put the borrowed suit jacket back on, wishing he’d brought something more fitting.

“You want a drink?” she asked, hooking her arm around his casually.

He simply nodded. For once in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

After the bartender brought them their drinks, she downed her first shot with a toss of her head, loosening her bun. Locks of black hair fell on the sides of her face, framing her pointy chin. He downed his shot and looked back, giving her a thumbs-up when she raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Their conversation started with small talks. It was a force of habit he’d picked up after his routine trips to the bars and clubs at night. Wolfie-the-stoic was never going to initiate conversation, and Felix had to get the ladies to chat so they could both walk away with a score every night. He liked hearing people talk about themselves, and he’d always made himself approachable with compliments and silly grins.

That was how he’d found out about the diamond from Mumbai—Steiner had drunkenly boasted about his plan after Felix appealed to his ego and challenged him to a drinking game. He pushed the memory away.

Dani talked to him about her days in college in San Diego. He laughed when she mentioned the pranks she and her sorority sisters used to pull. She’d celebrated every success in the way he and Wolfie used to celebrate after heists: with dancing and booze. They clinked their glasses and down another shot after finding that in common.

When she was excited, the left corner of her mouth would quirk up a second before the right, and he found that delightful.

Her dress was somewhat see-through and happened to be in a shade that matched her lipstick, but he knew that from memory, and not from glancing down her neckline as she spoke. Over the past few days, he’d gotten used to looking into her eyes. He’d also gotten acquainted with the signature tick of her right eyebrow, a gesture that could convey a dozen different things depending on the context, but usually meant she was teasing.

She finished listing all her best pranks, and her sharp brown eyes softened as she moved on to talk about her escapades with Lito and Hernando. _My boys_ , she’d called them.

Dani was an actress before she became Lito’s agent—she’d told Felix that three nights ago during a drinking game, where he’d found himself admitting defeat for the first time since the Great Stolichnaya Incident of 2003, something Wolfie had sworn to never speak of again. But he didn’t know until tonight that her best Christmas memory was from last year, the one she’d spent with her boys and Lito’s mom. He wondered how she’d spent her holidays before.

Meanwhile, Mavis sat near them, looking around the room, still pretending to jot down notes as her other hand fiddled with a handmade red and blue bracelet that stuck out like a sore thumb from her sophisticated evening outfit-costume. She gave Felix a slight nod when he looked back to check that nothing was amiss.

And then a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a dark blue suit slipped into the stool between Dani and Mavis. The man ordered a cocktail with an Italian accent, and Felix saw Mavis scratch the tip of her nose, the cue they’d agreed on. Mavis turned to the man, nodded in greeting, and initiated small talk. Felix and Dani took turns glancing around the room to make sure no one was fixating on them for an unnecessarily long time.

They heard Mavis tell the man she was planning to travel to Rome with her roommate, and ask for restaurant recommendations, handing him the notepad. After writing down a few words, he finished his drink and excused himself as he left for the restroom. Mavis turned back to talk some more with the bartender as Dani and Felix stood up. They had arranged to meet in front of the fish and chips place two blocks away.

When they got out, it was past midnight, and the street was bustling with excited chatter as groups of giggling friends walked past them. They prepared to cross the street per Mavis’ instruction, but before Felix could take a step, Dani swore under her breath and put a hand on his shoulder, turning them back.

“What?”

“We can’t cross here,” her voice shook. “Let’s go left first, cross over there.”

“Why?” Felix whispered.

“Why the hell is _he_ here,” she muttered instead, ignoring his question.

Felix turned to her. _Who the fuck is he?_ he mouthed.

She shook her head frantically, gesturing for him to be quiet as she guided them away down the sidewalk. He threw her a questioning glance before sneaking a glance behind him.

A man was leaning on the wall of the closed key shop across the street, smoking a cigar. He wore a brown leather jacket despite the heat, and a big golden pendant dangled in front of his chest. It was too dark to make out the man’s exact features, but Felix could see black hair and tattoos on his neck.

Felix recoiled as he turned back, and quickened his pace. The tattooed man’s mannerism gave him a shudder. He looked at Dani when he caught up with her and saw that her hand was shaking as she clutched her purse extra tight. And the look in her eyes? It was the same look Wolfgang wore when he cowered under his father’s gaze.

“Yeah, let’s move,” he said hoarsely and asked no more questions.

They ducked their heads low and didn’t stop walking until they arrived at the fish and chips place to find Mavis waiting. She waved her purse with the notepad inside triumphantly as Capheus rounded the corner in a different car, waving at them from the open window.

*

Kareem growled madly when he saw Karl enter the interrogation room, and the Headhunter had to resist the urge to pummel his prisoner in the chest. Instead, he slipped the EEG cap over Kareem’s head and waited for the Traceworks machine to detect the brain waves. From the pocket of his leather jacket, he took out a syringe with a light green liquid inside.

“Spooky color,” Kareem said with a whistle.

Karl wiped down the needle with antiseptics, taking his time so Kareem could get a good look at the way the liquid sloshed around and foams gathered around the top.

“Hoping to turn me into a mutant?”

“No, hardly,” Karl finally responded as he turned to look at his prisoner in the eye. The corners of his mouth twisted into a grin, distorting the scar that ran down the left side of his face. “This”—he brought the syringe forward so the prisoner could take a better look—“will turn you into one of us.”

Kareem sneered. “I will _never_ be one of you.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

Before the prisoner could gather his thoughts and give him a snarky retort, Karl pushed the needle into his neck. Kareem spasmed in his recliner, the leather straps threatening to snap. Then his muscles went lax, and he leaned his head back and let out a sigh, unaware that his mental walls were collapsing under his newfound lack of inhibition.

Karl used the second before Kareem closed his eyes to gaze into his dilating pupils and latch on to the sensation of utter bliss that reverberated through both their minds.

When he first became acquainted with his powers after his rebirth, Milton had told him eye contacts weren’t the only way one could connect to other Sensates, though it was by far the easiest. The alternative was an Empathetic Connection, where one’s intense feelings seep through the Psycellium to make connections with other Sensates who were experiencing the same emotions. This method had always been challenging for Headhunters; to genuinely experience these emotions would make them too vulnerable.

But if the Reciphorum proved itself effective in this trial, it could be revolutionary to the way they Hunted.

So he concentrated on the echoes of the Egyptian’s bliss, hoping the distribution of the drug across California would yield significant results.

_He could make out seven different voices, all mumbling incoherently. Karl visualized the voices as flickering lights inside a dense gray fog, and he drifted towards the closest one. The space below him swayed like he was on a turbulent sea, a sign of Kareem’s consciousness resisting, but the movement was futile as Kareem’s muddled mind struggled against the force of the invasion._

_Karl found himself colliding with the first flicker as he moved forward, ignoring the waves underneath. An image of a man in dreadlocks sitting at a dim-lit bar came into view. As he tried to move the man’s arm, he felt a buzzing in his head—the Blocker this man had taken was trying to shut off the Reciphorum-induced bliss that slipped through the cracks of the barriers around his mind. The hand that extracted the ID from the man’s back pocket was shaky, but Karl forced his own consciousness into the man’s body and detected the name and address on the man’s driver’s license._

_He repeated the information he’d gathered to himself before he closed his eyes and concentrated on finding the swaying ocean with the lights again. Then once more Karl collided with one of the flickers and found himself in a back alley, surrounded by a gang of dealers towering over him. He located an ID in the person’s jacket pocket and gathered the name and address. On he went until the last flickering light ebbed away, and he found himself in the fog again, the swaying growing still._

_Concentrate_. Karl concentrated on feeling the tense muscles of his own body from standing still for what he presumed to be a long time. As the sensation of aching in his back and legs returned, he found his consciousness back in the room with the white fluorescent light, the Traceworks machine beeping nearby to show a decrease in Kareem’s brain waves.

The prisoner in question lay on the stretcher, eyes still closed, mumbling as his mind drifted into nothingness.

“ _Danke,_ Herr Asghar,” Karl whispered into the now-unconscious man’s ears, pulling out a notepad to jot down the names and addresses of the Sensates he’d seen in his visions as he grinned madly. “You have been very helpful.”

*

As Riley fell asleep on the mattress near the couch, Will stepped over duffle bags and loaded suitcases to join Mavis on the first shift of the night. They were planning to travel to the new hideout tomorrow, but everyone was prepared to grab the emergency kits they kept by their pillow and escape from the window should someone come bursting through the front door. Lucky this hideout was on the second floor.

The younger woman was gazing to her right as she talked under her breath, her hand fiddling with the bracelet she never seemed to take off. When Will sat down next to her, she didn’t stir, but merely acknowledged him with a nod and turned back to talk to the empty space with a smile. She was speaking in a language he didn’t understand, but he thought he could detect a few familiar words.

“It’s Portuguese,” she answered when she heard him wondering. She reached out towards the visiting Sensate on her right to say goodnight, before turning her full attention to Will.

She opened her mouth again before he could say something in reply. “By the way, can I have my knife back? My boot’s feeling very lonely without it.”

He took out the switchblade he’d confiscated from her from the side pocket of his duffle bag but stopped before he could lay it on her outstretched hand.

“Why do you need this so much?”

She smirked. “Let me guess, bad cop habits?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he told her. “Answer my next question, and I’ll give this back.”

She shrugged.

“Why do you have two passports?”

“Oh, don’t tell me I’m the only one with fake IDs in this place.” She took out the passports in question and waved them tauntingly in front of Will.

“Which one’s real?”

She shoved the American one into his hand and snatched the switchblade back before he could close his fist. He opened it.

_Date of Birth: Jun 06, 1996._

6/6/96. He nearly snorted. 8/8/88 was their birthday, and Lito used to say it must have been destiny at work due to the size of their Cluster.

“Is there six of you?”

A flash of pain echoed through their connection, and Will apologized when he realized what it meant. She turned from him and looked down at her hands, fiddling with the bracelet around her wrist. He put a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look at him again. “BPO?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

_Then she shared a memory with him, of pummeling fists and the musky smell of the damp walls where a few boys bunked in a room overlooking the courtyard. The window was barred from the inside. Will saw a long-haired teenager with a muscular build sitting on a bottom bunk, wearing a set of gray overalls like the others. The boy made a move to punch the wall again, but Mavis grabbed his wrist._

_“Oh, punching your way out of here? Fantastic idea,” she remarked with a roll of her eyes._

_She sat next to the boy on the bed, donned in a nightgown, but none of the other boys appeared to know she was there. Will noticed she had longer hair back then. She wore the same smirk that made a single dimple appear on her right cheek, but the edge to her voice was more playful, less defensive._

_“I’m not trying to get out, Mavis, that’s not gonna fucking happen anyway,” the boy seethed, keeping his volume down._

_“But I know you want to,” Mavis singsonged. The boy turned and glared at her._

_“Look, maybe you should join them.” She nodded at the window. He got up and went to look down at the courtyard, where other boys in gray overalls played rugby against a team wearing private school jerseys. “Could be a good outlet for when you get a little punchy.”_

_He frowned and thought about it._

_“I know you wanna go home to your sister,” Mavis prompted again. “But they’re not gonna let you out if you keep being, well—”she gestured to all of him._

_He crossed his arms and glowered._

_“Good boy.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go back to bed.”_

_Then the memory faded, and another scene flashed by in Will’s mind. The same boy was struggling against the binds on a stretcher in a surgery room as Mavis and her four other Cluster-mates shouted at him and at each other in total panic. One of his arms escaped the binds and grabbed a scalpel on a tray that lay nearby, which he jabbed at the doctor who towered over him, trying to slip an EEG cap on his head._

_But he’d missed his doctor’s temple, and instead, the blade cut across his cheek. The doctor, who Will recognized as Pelzer, howled in pain as his blood slid from the jagged wound. Then two more guards rushed into the room to push the boy down, but before they could restrain his loose arm, he’d grabbed a pistol one of them kept hooked on their belt and aimed it into his mouth—_

There was the sound of a gunshot as the memory faded.

_Then another scene unfolded around Will. He saw Mavis standing in front of a desk in a study. The man sitting on the other side was looking up at her, frowning. “Absolutely not—”_

_“So what, I should keep hiding out here like a sitting duck?!” she shouted back as tears streamed down her face. “Morgan’s dead. And I can’t—”_

_“It won’t happen again,” the man tried to reassure her as he moved his gaze away from her face and looked down. “We’ll make sure—”_

_She snorted. “They’re hackers, not magicians.”_

_The man sighed deeply and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair._

_“Stop treating me like a child, dad,” she continued, crossing her arms. “I know what I’m doing.”_

_“I know you do,” Mr. Fowler said quietly, before lifted his head to look at her again. “I was just praying this day would never come.”_

_She looked surprised. “You knew I’d want to—”_

_“You’re a lot like your father,” he said, thinking of his deceased friend. “I don’t want to lose you too.”_

_Mavis' gaze softened. She let herself smirk a little. “Alright, I’ll try not to die,” she said. Her stepdad smiled wistfully._

Then Will found his consciousness launched back into his own body. He turned to Mavis, who was biting her lip as she twiddled her thumbs, trying not to cry at the reminder of her Cluster-mate’s death. He put a hand over hers in comfort.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping. You don’t have to answer,” Will said softly, “but what—”

“What happened to my father? BPO happened. It’s always them.”

“He was a Sensate? But I thought before 9-11—”

“There’s always been people in the know who wanted us gone. 9-11 just pushed the other BPO _Sapiens_ over the edge. That’s when we moved from Beijing.”

Of course. Nomi had located a major BPO facility there.

Mavis flipped through her British passport absentmindedly, and Will could make out visas and travel stamps on a couple pages. “My stepdad had this made when mom and I moved in with him. An escape plan. But—”

“You were tired of running,” he finished for her. He thought back to his own Cluster, how they’d decided to stand up against BPO despite the odds. It comforted him to know they weren’t the only ones.

“Yang was the name my birth father gave me,” she told him. “I’m using it to finish what he started. Fitting, isn’t it?”

She was spinning the switchblade with her fingers now. She pulled out the blade and examined it, turning the handle so the sharp edge glinted under the ray of moonlight that crept in from between the drawn curtains.

“Our Mother used to say that if we get caught, we have to do whatever it takes to protect our Cluster.” She pushed the blade into the slot on the side of the handle again. “But I wish we could have found another way.”

“Why do you carry this, then?”

She smiled dangerously, eyes cutting through the dim moonlit room like scalpels. When she spoke again, the edge was back in her voice.

“I’m not planning to use this on myself.”

*

Later that night, Will drifted out of a dream where he and Riley were climbing atop that volcano with the name he couldn’t pronounce. He found himself staring into the face of a man with a demented glint in his eyes and forceful hands that yanked at his hair.

But he was seeing through someone else’s eyes.

The man in the memory pulled the woman, the woman whose body Will was inhabiting, into a corner of the bedroom and thrashed her about with his hands on her shoulder. She put up her arms to protect her face and chest, but her bones threatened to break under the impact. Spots danced around her vision.

 _Please, Xanthus, please, please._

Her voice quivered as she pleaded in a foreign language through split lips. Will felt the pain as if he were her, and the speech sounded like English to his ears. A feeling of dread plagued through the dream—no, _memory_ —and Will was frozen on the spot near the corner where she crouched.

Then there was a chilling presence in the back of his mind, and Will found himself bound by tendrils as cold as ice before he was yanked out of the scene.

And he was back at the hospital room where he’d watched the life drain out of his father. He was speaking through Riley, but he couldn’t hear any of the words they’d said. All he could hear was the voice that haunted his dreams.

 _I was right, Will,_ Whispers said. _You don’t really care for him._

 _You don’t know me!_ Will shouted at the voice. _Leave me alone! You don’t—_

_You fought harder for Wolfgang than you ever did for him. Did he really mean that little to you?_

_Fuck off._ Will seethed, trying to reassure himself that Whispers was doing this on purpose to get a reaction. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

 _How heartless of you to let your father die alone._ He could almost see Whispers shaking his head in disapproval. _And really, it’s your fault he died at all. If you hadn’t left Chicago -_

_You have no fucking right -_

_Oh, come now, Will,_ Whisper’s voice was pitiful. _You and I both know it’s the truth._

_No!_

He jolted out of his dream and rolled off the mattress with a thump. Sun was by his side in a second, hands on his shoulders, eyes glancing around the room for potential signs of danger. Capheus stood from the couch and raised his fists, feet spread apart in a defensive stance.

“No, no, no…” he kept muttering as he sat on the ground and rocked back and forth in a fetal position with his head on his knees, suppressing his sob. Sun let go of him as Riley came over and embraced him from behind, smoothing his hair with her hand.

“Will, Will, listen to me,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake Felix snoring nearby.

She reached out to his mind, a shivering presence in their shared consciousness, and imagined her hand smoothing over his doubts, letting the warmth of her presence seep inside and drive the cold whispers away.

She brought forth the memory of her mother stroking her hair when she’d woken from a nightmare. She recalled the sensation of careful fingers brushing against her, tingling her senses until she’d smiled contently and closed her eyes. She’d listened as her mother’s voice hummed her favorite lullaby until she’d fallen asleep, and she repeated the song to Will now, hoping it would do the same for him. She felt his shaking come to a halt.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled as he let her guide him back onto their shared mattress. “Dad, dad, don’t go, I-I’m sorry.”

When she lay down next to him again, she put her arms around him, hoping to shield him from his doubts. He woke at the touch, his eyes opening.

“What happened, Will?”

He buried his head in the crook of her neck and sniffled, sending forth both visions from Whispers’ mind. She gasped, then sighed.

“He doesn’t know you,” she said as she rubbed circles on his back, shaking her head at the way he crumbled under his remorse. “You may not see it now, but next time he tries to tell you who you are, remember to look in here”—she tapped a finger against his forehead with her other hand.

He turned a little so he could look her in the eye.

“—and _here_.” She tapped her finger against where his heart was. “You’ll see what I see, not what he sees.”

Humming, he felt the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile.

His breaths evened out after a few more minutes. When he tried to breathe, he crinkled his nose in annoyance, realizing it was stuffed. Riley took out a pack of tissue paper from the side pocket of a duffle bag nearby and pinched his nose, grinning when he gruntled in protest like a petulant child with a cold.

When Riley tossed the tissue away and settled back down next to him, he pulled her close, inching his head forward so that their noses bopped against each other.

 _Love you_ , he said in their shared mind.

“I love you too, Will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary** :
> 
> Reciphorum = A drug that brings the user into a state of _reciphoria_. And yes, I made that word up. It’s a combo of “reciprocal” and “euphoria”.
> 
> Danke = Thank you.


	8. The bone that refused you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which several conversations take place, and several things escalate.
> 
> “I wish that I had known in that first minute we met,  
> the unpayable debt that I owed you.  
> Because you'd been abused by the bone that refused you  
> and you hired me to make up for that.”  
> — From “Kettering”, by The Antlers (S1E1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I'm still alive. Just had a busy week at my internship is all. And my perfectionism is not helping, haha! This is a calm before the storm sort of chapter, so brace yourself for lots of fluff! 
> 
> A big thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, subs and comments. You all are lovely people. I hope your clusters appreciate you :)

**July 7, 2017**

Hernando and Dani sat in the living room of the new hideout and watched the sunrise through the gaps between the newspaper stuck on the window. They were in an abandoned nursing home on the outskirts of London. On the bright side, it was a three-story house with six bedrooms, so the gang no longer all had to be cramped inside one living room. The downside was the moldy, squeaky mattresses.

While Lito had fallen into a deep sleep on said mattress within seconds, Hernando and Dani eventually gave up trying to get comfortable. They volunteered to take Capheus and Sun’s place for the last guarding shift before the morning. Mavis was confident they weren’t followed, but no one wanted to take any chances in case BPO broke in through the front door, the only door that could actually open.

“I never thought I’d be hiding again,” Hernando said, pushing up his glasses to get a better look at the orange sky before the sun fully rose.

Dani nodded, putting her hand over his.

“The situation with the”—he scrunched up his nose—“with the Sensates, it really resonated with me, Dani. It’s like… It’s like we finally leave behind the paparazzi and angry ex-fans, and someone comes up with another reason to drive us into that life again. It feels like where we were a few months ago with the new apartment and the typecasting scripts. But this time”—he put his face in his hands and continued, his voice muffled—“this time I don’t know how we can get out. This is no Iberian Dream.”

Dani leaned in close. He lifted his head up and put an arm around her shoulder.

“This is different,” she agreed. “It’s not just about losing a career anymore. I don’t even know what we’re up against. Those Headhunter people? They—”

Dani thought back to the man Lito called Whispers. She’d only caught a glimpse of him as Lito and his Cluster-mates wheeled him by to lock him into a bedroom of their last hideout, but she’d shuddered at the sight of him. Her hands had gone cold as if his iciness was contagious.

Hernando nodded as he, too, tried to push the image of the white-haired Headhunter out of his mind. “I know, Dani. And they’re not even the biggest problem.”

“What does BPO even want from this?”

“I think… I think they’re turning all the Sensates in the world against each other, so everyone loses sight of the bigger picture.” At Dani’s look of confusion, he added, “The Sensates are so busy fighting among themselves, avoiding their own kind, they overlook the threat from the Sapiens.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yes, this appears to be a typical style of diversion,” he explained. “Have you seen Lito’s second movie?”

“ _The Peril of Brotherhood_? Yeah. Why?”

“Do you remember the scene where José turned his gun on his friend because the secret passage could take only one?”

Hernando nodded. “He turned on Juan because he thought Juan would turn on him.”

“Exactly. And now ’Juan is alone. Vulnerable.” Hernando leaned back and ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. “These Sensates, they’re alone too, because every Sensate they see, they suspect it's a Headhunter. They can’t risk making allies. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Dani groaned. “Why, _why_ is BPO like this?”

“People are scared of people who are different from them.”

“What’s gonna happen when they’re exposed? Nomi thought BPO might blame the attacks on Sensates, right?”

“People are gonna be scared. If they’re exposed, the Headhunters won’t be the only ones going after them.” He turned his head towards the stairs, thinking about Lito, asleep in their second-floor bedroom. Dani looked at him and held his hand.

“God, I miss the days when finding an apartment was our biggest problem.”

“It was ours.” He thought about Will and Riley, who had been on the run. “Not his. He was living two different lives. Two sets of problems. I didn’t even know—”

“But now we know,” Dani reassured Hernando before he could fall into another cycle of self-blame after his initial one during the debriefing on their first day in London. “Now we can help him. And all of his family.”

He smiled. “ _Our_ family, Dani.”

*

Nomi usually woke to the sensation of Amanita’s fingers running through her hair, followed by affectionate pecks that brought a smile to her face before she even opened her eyes. She’d never been a morning person, but Neets rose with the dawn, and if it weren’t for her, Nomi would have slept until noon every day.

But today she was woken up by a whimper.

Will’s paranoia was rubbing off on her, she thought as she shot up from her bed, opened her eyes and scanned across the room several times to locate the source of the distress, her head turning so fast she could feel the strain of her neck muscles. She finally located the sound: her fiancée, her fierce protector, cowered against the corner. Amanita was pointing a shaky finger at the opposite wall, and Nomi couldn’t help but giggle.

“Noms,” Amanita whined. “Noms, i-it’s right here. It’s so close.” Her voice trembled. “I-I can feel it crawling on me. _Noms_.”

“It’s a spider, Neets,” Nomi teased but walked over to the wall where Amanita was pointing anyway. “I think it’s more scared of you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Nomi chuckled. “Alright, hang on,” she said as she fished out a piece of scrap paper from her bag. Then she curved it around the sides like a makeshift scoop and poked the end at the spider from where it clung to the wall. The spider climbed onto the paper and Amanita suppressed a screech.

“ _Noms_ ,” Amanita whined again. “Get it away from me.”

“Patience, Neets,” Nomi chastised half-heartedly, smiling at the way the other woman humphed indignantly at her response.

Nomi held the paper with the spider in one hand and opened the door with the other. The windows were all boarded shut, so she walked all the way downstairs and opened the front door to drop the spider off in the front garden, nodding a good morning at Hernando and Dani as she passed by the living room on the way back.

When she opened the door to their bedroom again, she was tackled into a hug, followed by the usual good morning kisses from a tip-toeing Amanita.

“My hero,” she said, in-between pecks. “What will I do without you?”

“You’ll have to learn to live with spiders,” Nomi teased when the kisses subsided. “You grew up near the woods! How did you survive?”

Amanita pulled Nomi back to the bed. “I was in a commune, Noms.” They sat down again, leaning against the headboard. “I let the other kids take care of the bugs,” she explained, running her hand up and down Nomi’s arm.

Nomi chuckled. “Spiders aren’t bugs.”

“Fine, but they’re still creepy.” Amanita pouted. “It’s the legs”—she wiggled her fingers around, imitating how most insects moved about. “Ugh. Just… no.”

“Is that why you didn’t like Bug when you first met?”

“No!” Amanita said immediately, moving her gaze away from Nomi. “I just thought he was a bit”—she fiddled with her dreadlocks—“okay, maybe it didn’t help with the first impression,” she conceded, turning back to face her fiancée. “But just because _that_ Bug is tolerable now, doesn’t mean I can deal with the other ones.”

Nomi turned and tilted her chin down to give Amanita a quick peck. “You don’t have to.”

“Mm.” Amanita closed her eyes, savoring the kiss. “You look good in a shining armor.”

*

At lunchtime, the Bug in question called. “Seven missin’ in California,” he said hoarsely, devoid of the usual dramatic tone.

“ _Seven_?!” Lito exclaimed. Hernando’s eyes grew wide, and Dani looked shaken.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Kala said. “There was four last night, wasn’t there?” Everyone nodded. “Bug”—she turned to the screen—“where were they last seen?”

“They all went out on the 6th. Bars, clubs, all of that fun business. No one’s seen them since. Probably all went missin’ at round about the same time.”

Felix thought about it. “Must have taken drugs,” he concluded.

“Are you certain?” Sun asked.

“The environment does provide the perfect cover for discreet transactions,” Kala observed.

Felix shrugged. “Or they could have been drugged by someone else. Lots of crazy shitheads at the bars.”

“BPO’s behind this, either way. It has to be them,” Will added.

 _Fuck_ , Felix mouthed. Riley nodded solemnly, and Amanita and Nomi clutched each other’s hands tight and looked at Bug, who also had a grim expression.

“So these missing people, are they”—Hernando started.

“Yes, they’re Sensates, Hernando. They’re hunting again,” Lito told him. Hernando swallowed hard, and Dani looked around the table, frowning in concern.

“But _why_ would they go out without taking a Blocker?” Kala wondered.

“Maybe they did,” Capheus speculated.

Kala frowned. “You think BPO has found a way to counteract the effect of the Blockers?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Amanita said. Nomi nodded next to her.

“They must be making more Bolgers,” Will concluded. “They’re gonna use them to attack again. And soon.”

“But where?” Riley asked.

Bug cleared his throat, and everyone looked at the screen. “I’ve identified several air and land vehicles that make regular trips to and from BPO facilities,” the air of drama was back in his voice, albeit his eyes still looked haunted. “I’ll keep tabs on the license plates and alert you if I find them travelin’ to the same place.”

“Thanks, Bug,” Nomi said.

“Justice is as justice does. Right, Angels?”

*

Wolfgang greeted Kala with a grin when she returned to their room after lunch. They’d kept him partially sedated, lowering his dosage every day so he could ease into the pain in his chest. His eyes were half closed, but he tried to keep them open and take in the sight of his Kala, all floral patterned-dress and gentle brown eyes.

“Did I wake you?” She rushed to his bedside and knelt next to him. “Sorry—”

He turned and shook his head slightly, reaching out a hand to touch her, the muscles on his chest straining. He chastised himself for being weak. The voice in his head sounded uncannily like his father’s.

Kala scowled when she noticed the way he cringed, knowing what he was thinking despite the Blocker they’d kept him on to shield his mind from the Headhunters. She held out her hand and pressed her palm against his before bringing his hand to her cheek, smiling at the sensation. His senses tingled, too, and, the voice in his head subsided.

It had been three days since they first saw each other in person, but Kala was still giddy whenever they touched. The physical contact reminded her that Wolfgang was really _here_. She felt a little like Daya back when she had that crush on the cute shop boy across the street. She remembered how her sister used to buy a kulfi from there every day after school just so she could look him in the eye. Then she’d come home and continue to stare at him from their bedroom window.

But what she and Wolfgang had? It ran far deeper than any crush. Riley was right, Kala thought, as she took in the sight of Wolfgang lying in bed looking at her. The presence was something she couldn’t imagine losing.

Wolfgang tried to shuffle himself to the left to make space for Kala, groaning with every move, but she stopped him before he could seriously hurt himself.

“It’s the middle of the day, _bhediya._ ” Her complaint was half-hearted.

“Maybe you should take a break.” His voice was still a little scratchy, but his throat no longer ached every time he tried to speak.

She laid down on his right side without another protest, knowing she’d cave eventually anyway. It was hard to say no when he was smirking at her, dimples and all. She tried to tell herself she only caved because he was injured.

Wolfgang draped his blanket over both of them before slowly pulling her close. The tip of her nose was almost touching his chest. She tried not let her eyes linger too long over the purpled veins and old scars. She’d seen his scars before, but not in person, and not when they stood out against the dark bruises like angry lightning against the night sky.

Her finger hovered an inch above his skin, and he could sense her hesitation. “Does it still hurt when I touch it?” she asked softly.

He paused, and his smirk widened. “Why don’t you find out?”

“But I don’t”—she looked up and detected an impish glint in his blue eyes. She laughed a little, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “If you insist.” She leaned in, found a puckered scar, and pecked it lightly. Then she looked up.

Wolfgang pretended to think about it. “Better.”

Blushing, Kala leaned in again, this time on a particularly angry bruise near his collarbone. Her lips grazed the surface gently, and Wolfgang growled.

“Better?”

“Yes, doctor.”

She smiled, and he stretched out his right arm to fit under the space between her neck and the pillow under her head. His hand rubbed against her forearm, and she looked at it, frowning when she noticed a jagged scar along the side of his right elbow.

“How did you get this?” she said, tracing along the scar.

“Felix doesn’t want me to tell.”

She turned back to watch him, lips pursed and brows furrowed, a look of concentration. He used to bring up this memory of her every night. He’d imagine himself tapping her on the nose to see if he could make her laugh.

“Must have been terribly embarrassing,” she deduced. “I’m very curious now.”

“Will you stay here longer if I tell you?”

It was Kala’s turn to tease. “Why don’t you find out?”

He paused and took in her expression, savoring the memory. “Felix and I broke into a liquor store when we were fifteen,” he said after a pause. “We were on a dare.”

“Wolfgang! Did you punch through a window? You could have been—”

“I picked the lock, _Schatz_.”

“Oh.” She blushed a little, embarrassed at her overreaction. “So how did you…”

“We found a shop with a shitty lock.”

She huffed dramatically to show him she did not approve of thievery. Then she perked up a little, turned to him, and asked, “Did you get caught?”

“Why do you want to know?” he teased.

“I’m trying to deduce why Felix finds this embarrassing.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“Huh.” Kala frowned again, and his grin grew wider. She so wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. “So what”—Then her eyes widened. “You got _drunk_.”

“Felix got drunk,” he amended. “I had to carry him home.”

She laughed as she pictured a teenage Wolfgang trying to lift a gangly Felix over his shoulder, swaying as he tried to find balance. He continued, “We were gonna sell the bottles for cash. Felix took Stolichnaya and an 8-pack of beer. I took some schnapps.”

Kala sighed, exasperated. Wolfgang chuckled.

“After we got out through the back door, we heard sirens. We thought it was for _us_ , so we split ways and took off. A few hours later I went to look for Felix. I found him passed out on top of some garbage bags in front of a dumpster.”

“Don’t tell me he drank everything!”

He laughed and bit back a groan when his chest muscles clenched in protest. Kala put her hand over his and nuzzled her head against the side of his cheek, trying to distract him from the pain.

His stubble was turning into a beard, she noted. She’d have to fix that.

“No, he drank the Stoli.”

“Oh my _God_ , why?”

“It was our first heist! We didn’t know what to do. He panicked when he heard sirens. Wanted to get rid of the evidence. He tossed the beers in the dumpster.”

“So he _drank_ some evidence and _threw away_ everything else?” She tried to stifle a laugh and ended up making a sound that was a combination of a sigh and a chortle. And of course, he couldn’t resist pecking her on the cheek. “Was he okay?” she asked, after returning his kiss.

He nodded. “He chugged down half the bottle before he threw up and passed out. I had to bring him to my uncle’s. We snuck into my room through the window. Frau Berner would have killed him if I hauled him home like that.”

She nodded, before remembering, “But how did you get the scar?”

“Felix was heavier than he looked. I fell, two blocks away from my uncle’s house. A sharp rock or something cut me.”

She traced the scar along his elbow. “Did it hurt?”

“Not as much as Felix’s head the next morning.”

Kala cringed. Then she turned to look at Wolfgang, frowning.

“What is it?” he asked. He leaned in and kissed her between the brows. His lips were still slightly chapped, and it tickled. She mumbled, wanting him to stop but unwilling to draw away, and ended up burying her face into the crook of his neck.

“What about the one you took?” she asked, voice muffled. “The schnapps?”

He lifted a strand of curls and tucked it behind her ear. “The bottle’s still in my apartment. But the schnapps is gone now, we drank that.”

“I didn’t know you were so nostalgic.”

“It’s a nice bottle.”

She moved her head away from his neck so she could look at him again. “Why is Felix so embarrassed by this?”

A smirk. “The beers weren’t the only thing Felix chucked into the dumpster.”

Realization hit, and Kala froze, opening her mouth, eyes widening. She let out a half-gasp, half-shriek, and buried her face in Wolfgang's neck again. The last time he’d seen this look of horror from her was at her first wedding. He had to restrain himself from laughing, mindful of the tightening muscles on his chest.

“Oh my God,” she finally said after a few minutes’ pause, pulling her face up. “ _Why_?”

“I asked him, but he was so drunk I couldn’t hear what he said… Something about DNA and surveillance cameras? He left his boxers on, but everything else—”

It was both horrifying and hilarious to imagine a teenage Felix donned in nothing but colorful underwear, and as aghast as Kala was, she couldn’t help the scandalized laughter that escaped. When she looked at Wolfgang again, he found a little seed of wickedness budding in the soft brown of her eyes.

“Felix will be angry with me if he finds out what I’ve told you,” he said. He withdrew his arm from underneath her neck and stroked her hair.

Kala let out a hum as she smiled, content, but the air of mischief lingered on the corners of her mouth as she continued to smirk in a very Wolfgang-like fashion. She leaned in close to his ear. “Find a way to silence me, then,” she whispered.

So he kissed her until she had to gasp for air.

“Your turn,” he said.

She let out an indignant huff. “I’ve never _stolen_ anything—”

“Tell me something about your childhood.”

Kala frowned again, trying to recall something interesting. Compared to her Cluster, she’d always thought she was somewhat lacking in the “exciting anecdotes” department. Wolfgang seemed to know what was on her mind, Blocker be damned.

“Have you ever helped at the restaurant? Cooked with your father?” She was not getting away from him now, so he tried to steer the conversation for the first time in his life. Felix would have been proud.

“ _Oh._ ” She perked up. “I can make the entire menu.”

He didn’t think it was possible for him to feel more impressed by Kala. “All of them? When did you learn?”

“My third year of secondary school,” she told him, wishing Headhunters weren’t a problem so she could share the memory with him. “Daya had a crush on the new boy in her class. She used to go to the park with him every day after school. But my father was a bit… _concerned_ , when it came to boys.”

“Concerned?”

“I once had a lab partner who _never_ came back to my house after he and my dad had a talk. I had to finish the entire project myself! So Daya knew he’d overreact.”

Wolfgang smirked as he imagined Sanyam chasing away some poor boy from his house, menacingly waving his spatula.

“My mother was visiting her family in Punjab, so he’d come upstairs to our room and check on us. Daya didn’t want him to know she hadn’t come home. She begged me to distract him, so on the first day I asked him to teach me how to make samosas.”

She showed him a scar along the fold of her joint on her left index finger. “I nearly cut my finger off, the first time I tried to cook.”

He stroked her hand before lifting it to his mouth to kiss the scar.

“Of course, Daya was over him before my mother even came back.” She smiled as she remembered how many sleepless nights she’d spent listening to Daya gush over a different cute boy. She continued, “But when she stopped going to the park, I’d already learned five recipes, and my father was so _happy_ I was interested in his work. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wanted to quit.”

It was a very Kala thing to do, to spare others’ feelings at the expense of her own. Wolfgang found that both endearing and exasperating. He pulled her closer, so her head was leaning against his right shoulder, and she couldn’t stifle her yawn—the sleepless nights she’d spent working on her anti-Blocker formula was really catching up to her.

He inched his head closer to her ear and noticed that her hair smelled like jasmine, just like in his memory, but it was stronger when she was there in person. “ _Stay_ ,” he whispered.

“Will that help you heal?”

Wolfgang nodded. Kala responded with another yawn, mumbled a good night, and promptly fell asleep. He watched her, watched as the afternoon light escaped through the gap between the moth-eaten curtain, casting a golden ray over her head, and for the first time in years, he started to believe in miracles.

When Felix came back an hour later and found Wolfgang grinning like a fucking idiot in his sleep, his cheek pressed against Kala’s, he did the only sensible thing a friend would do in that situation and snapped a photo.

*

Someone had tried to break into Mun’s hospital room.

They hadn’t succeeded, Nomi assured Sun as she showed her the news report. But the attacker, most likely under Joong-Ki’s orders, had, according to a nurse who witnessed the scene, marched down the hall with a gun hidden inside their jacket and put up a good fight against the guards stationed outside the detective’s door. Though the police released the assassin the day after because the security cameras in the hospital—the most technologically advanced one in Seoul—all miraculously went dead during the same ten-minute interval. And, the nurse, too, had disappeared.

Will sat down next to Sun at the start of their shift that night. Instead of nodding to acknowledge his presence, she continued to look outside from the gaps between the old newspapers plastered on the windows, frowning.

“He’s going to get himself killed.”

Will moved closer and put a hand on her arm. “He’ll be okay. If anything, he seems tougher than he looks.”

“We both know luck has its limit.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just luck.” He looked at her. “Someone’s looking out for him.”

She shook her head. “Me? I cannot do anything.”

“You already did.”

“What happened in our past is not going to help him.”

“He knows you’re still out there somewhere. He won’t give up on you. You’re giving him a reason to go on.”

Sun sighed. “Why does he want to help so badly?”

“It’s part of the job.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No one would go to such lengths for duty alone.”

It would seem his cop habits were rubbing off on everyone, Will thought as he smiled sheepishly. He showed her a glimpse of Sara Patrell pressing a finger against her lips. “It’s the feeling that haunts me. Maybe it’s the same for him.”

“The feeling?”

“Whenever I get a new case, I think about the people I save more than the people I fight. The hardest part is when I’m forced to stop and accept it’s too late.”

“Denying the truth won’t make the consequence any easier to bear,” she said, looking away. _That’s what I did with Joong-Ki._

He put his arm around her shoulder, prompting her to turn to him again. “You’re right, it won’t. But this isn’t the end for you. We’ll get him.”

 _I don’t want anyone else to get hurt_.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Will reassured. “This accusation he made? I think it was bait. That’s why he stationed those guards. They’re witnesses.”

“It was reckless.” _He could have been—_

“It was. But most of us don’t like playing it safe.”

She thought about her decision to go to prison and her Cluster’s actions against BPO. “Imagining the risk is different from experiencing it.”

“True,” he conceded, “but the uncertainty’s part of the job, too.”

The old Sun Bak was a law-abiding citizen. If she were to imagine her future, she would never have imagined herself on the run from two authorities in alliance with a group of fighter-hacktivists in Guy Fawkes masks. But life always gave Sun the unexpected, and these days, she decided uncertainty was not always unwelcome. She smiled as she remembered the day she and Will fought back to back against Lila’s Cluster and won.

She never used to remember her fights. But, like everything else in her life, that appeared to be changing, too.


	9. Love is not a victory march

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Riley gets visitors, Will spies on Whispers, and Capheus gets a surprise.
> 
> “Baby I've been here before  
> I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
> I used to live alone before I knew you  
> And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
> And love is not a victory march  
> It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.”  
> — From “Hallelujah”, by Leonard Cohen (S2E1)

**July 8, 2017**

Riley was going about her morning routine making breakfast for everyone when she stopped in her tracks. The skillet and pancake batter lay on the counter, forgotten, as she backed into the fridge. A side-glance told Riley there was a visitor, and she reached for the bottle of Blockers she kept in her robe pocket in case of emergencies, but when she turned to look at the visitor’s face, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Hoy?”

“Haven’t seen me in a while, have you?” he said with a hearty laugh. “I don’ mean to frighten you. Jus’ came to ask for somethin’.”

She nodded.

“’S a rough time for the Archipelago. They’re huntin’ us down again.”

“Who, BPO?”

“Aye, the Headhunters. You let the Cannibal go, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?”

He chuckled and tapped a finger against his head. “You underestimate the power of networks, Riley Blue.”

“We traded with BPO. Our Cluster-mate was captured. We had to get him back.”

Mr. Hoy nodded. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“Is there anything I can—”

“The Sensates, they’re disappearin’ like mad. Ain’t ‘nuff Blockers to keep up.”

She cringed and looked at the half empty bottle of black capsules in her hand. “Mr. Hoy, I’m not sure we have enough—”

“’s not the drug we need, lassie. I’ve just been thrang. Could use a wee bit assistance, makin’ these Blockers, if you can spare a lad or two.”

“Oh.” Riley smiled in relief. “We have someone who can help. I’ll ask her.”

*

On the train ride to Scotland, Felix looked out the window, uncharacteristically silent as he reassessed his impression of a certain Indian woman for the third time. A now clean-shaven Wolfie had shared with him a series of anecdotes, most of which involved a member of the Cluster (often himself) in danger and Kala coming to their rescue, fire-a-blazing behind her as she produced bombs and watched shit explode.

“ _Fuck_ , Wolfie, she’s a keeper,” he’d told his friend.

Upon hearing that, Kala had smirked at Felix in a way that reminded him of Wolfie. Felix wondered if being a Sensate meant their personalities rubbed off on each other, too. The last thing he needed was for Wolfie to start lecturing him about science.

Wolfie and Kala sat opposite of him in their private compartment. If Felix weren’t on the run from some batshit crazy organization trying to start a massacre, he’d have rejoiced at the prospect of traveling like a millionaire (courtesy of Nomi). The booze one could get on this train was to die for, but in his current mood, he didn’t feel like drinking.

Felix watched Kala reach an arm behind Wolfie’s back to fluff the pillows she’d put there. Wolfie turned to watch her, and when she finished, he pecked her on the forehead, smiling as he drew back and watched her blush. Felix hadn’t seen Wolfie smile like that since he’d seen Felix wake up at the hospital after he’d been shot.

( _Those fucking diamonds._ Felix pushed the memory out of his mind, trying not to touch the place where the scars still marred his chest.)

“So, Scotland,” he decided to fill the silence. Kala and Wolfie turned to him. “I always thought I’d go there on vacation, not when I’m on the run from psycho mass-murderers.”

“You could have stayed in London,” Kala replied archly. “Someone else could have come with us.”

“ _Pfft_.” Felix leaned back and turned to his friend. “Tell her, Wolfie, have I ever stayed home and let you have all the fun and glory?”

“Only for the past year or so,” Wolfie sided with Kala, who _ooh_ -ed at the low blow.

Felix was starting to miss the days when Dani was the only one poking fun at him.

“You and your imaginary friends have had too many adventures without me,” Felix said, pretending he wasn’t bothered about the painful reminder of his lack of sensacity. “You’re missing out.”

Wolfie kissed Kala again before turning back to Felix with a shit-eating grin.

“Fuck you.” Felix stood up and stepped past Wolfie’s wheelchair. He made his way over to the compartment door and grabbed the handle. “You two,”—he gestured between them—“finish whatever you’re gonna do before I come back.”

They didn’t.

*

Will’s Blocker wore off before dinner.

He had decided to look around Whispers’ mind before he fell prey to his invasion, and Riley was sitting next to him on their bed, Blocker at the ready in case he got caught. Holding her hand, he closed his eyes and felt her inject him with a small dose of heroin, just enough for him to reach the Headhunter’s mind without triggering his addiction.

It wasn’t difficult to locate the coldness Whispers’ presence embodied in the Psycellium, but the challenge was to connect to it without being noticed.

 _I am looking for the Chairman_ , Will thought to himself as he suppressed a shiver. He was getting close. _A memory of a conversation with the Chairman, where I can see his face._

Will had gathered that a Sensate felt others’ emotions by the memories they triggered, which were then translated into a relevant and familiar sensation. Whispers’ fear was a thin wall of ice surrounding his memory. The cold barrier could be easily broken, but the sharp corners still cut if Will tried to put a fist through it in his mind to see what was hidden. And the pain it brought would be no less insufferable than if Will had physically broken his hand: he’d learned that the hard way, the first time he pushed through to see Croome.

So when Will made out the ice around the darkness that surrounded Whispers’ presence, he imagined a hand wiping away the frost gathered at the surface. Peeking through the barrier, all Will could see was more black. He hovered closer and made out a woman’s voice echoing within the chamber. But the woman’s tone was sharp, and her words cut cracks on the wall, which shook slightly upon Will’s touch.

 _I want to see the Chairman’s face_ , Will chanted in his mind again, but no images showed.

Then Will felt a firm arm on his shoulder, and a fiery sensation he knew too well engulfed them both—the embodiment of Lito. _I think we should work around it,_ Lito thought in their shared consciousness.

_Around what?_

_The woman makes him scared. I can feel it._

_But how—_

_I can feel it because you feel it because he feels it because—you get the idea. But he’s trying to hide it. He’s lying. There’s a reason he’s lying. He doesn’t want you to know she scares him._

Will tried to nod, his mind’s eye bobbing up and down in his vision. Will felt Lito give him a pat on the shoulder before his fire vanished.

 _Show me the woman,_ Will thought instead, forehead pressing against the ice.

_Blonde curls and steel blue eyes pierced through the semi-transparent layer of ice, and for a second Will suspected the woman could see him watching. She couldn’t have, he reminded himself, because she was a memory. Something about the middle-aged woman brought forth another memory of piercing blue eyes glaring through the darkness. But Wolfgang’s eyes had a softness beneath; hers were unrelenting._

_Still, Will breathed a small sigh of relief at his success, his breath up the surface of the ice a little. He imagined a hand wiping at it to give him a clearer view._

_“What evidence do you have that Croome is lying?” Will heard her ask. She had an impeccable London accent, but Will knew, because Whispers knew, that she was not from here._

_The woman closed the cap of her black fountain pen and leaned back in her chair. The blinds were pulled up behind her, and Will could make out Southwark with all its tall glass buildings, the panels reflecting the sunlight._

_“He had been listening in. Reporting back,” Whispers said, in the voice that haunted Will’s dreams. Will drew back from the ice slightly, reminding himself not to lean too close against it in case the Headhunter caught him snooping and tried to push back._

_“To whom?”_

_“Our computer systems are not as secure as they appear,” Whispers said. “The DNA census data has been disappearing. The deletion was a gradual process, but now it has been brought to my attention. People are infiltrating our organization.”_

_The woman scoffed, and Will felt Whispers draw back slightly. The corners of her dark red lips quirked up for a second. “Our organization, Milton?”_

_“Your operations cannot be completed without me,” Whispers reminded her._

_“It was Angelica Turing’s theory, if I’m not mistaken, that inspired the prototype for the Reciphorum?”_

_“But the Traceworks—”_

_“Would not have been completed without_ her _research.”_

_He was seething, but she watched him stir in his chair, lips pursed. “You cannot hunt down the August 8 Cluster without me, Veronika.”_

_Veronika tutted her tongue upon hearing her name, suppressing her annoyance at his audacity. “That may be.” Her voice was calm, unfazed. “But you are in no position to bargain, after your complete failure at the Iceland facility.”_

_Will knew Whispers’ veins were bulging as he resisted his temper. “I am aware.”_

_She gave him a stern nod. “Until my men have gathered concrete evidence of Croome’s actions against my orders, you will do as he says.”_

_“Understood.” Then Whispers got up from his seat, and Will felt the lens from which the memory was viewed move upward before Whispers looked down at Veronika again. “May I suggest a search of his office? “_

_She raised an eyebrow, and Will knew Whispers was smirking. “What would I be looking for?”_

_“Tracking devices, perhaps.” Whispers suggested. “A personal relic would make a perfect disguise.”_

*

Mr. Hoy wasn’t the only surprise visitor Riley had that day.

“Foolish girl,” a familiar Icelandic voice echoed behind Riley as she was about to climb up the stairs. “You’re going to get your Cluster killed.”

Riley jumped and would have fallen if it weren’t for Will holding her in place.

“Yrsa?”

“The woman from Iceland?” Will asked, looking in the same direction. He had started taking Blockers before bed in case Whispers tried to deduce the location of their new hideout. “What did she say?”

“She thinks we’re all gonna die,” Mavis explained as she walked over from the kitchen and gave Yrsa a wave. “Evening, Mother. You’re looking well.”

Yrsa breathed an exasperated sigh, and Will looked between Riley and Mavis, and then glanced at the space where he thought Yrsa must be. “ _Mother_?”

“Right! Haven’t told you her name. Silly me.” Mavis leaned against the wall next to the staircase, gesturing between Will and the empty space. “Will, Yrsa. Yrsa, Will.”

Will opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Sun walked over from the living room and raised her eyebrow when she found Riley and Mavis looking at a visitor she could not see. Riley gave her a nod, and she walked back to her position silently, knowing she would be debriefed later.

“I should have known you were involved,” Yrsa said to Mavis, ignoring Will.

Mavis smirked. “I thought you weren’t talking to me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t she be talking to you?” Riley asked, turning to Yrsa.

“It was terribly naïve of you to think you can fight and win against BPO,” Yrsa spoke to Mavis, her gaze stern as she gestured at Will and Riley. “Have you no idea you are endangering this Cluster?”

“Uhh, I don’t think I’m the one putting them—”

“Foolish child. And your own Cluster, too. Are you so willing to risk—”

“I’ll have you know, _Yrsa_ ,” Mavis’ voice shook as she crossed her arms and stepped forward. “That I have everyone under Veracity protection. Which you would _know_ if you haven’t been hiding for the last two years!”

Yrsa sighed. “I did what I had to do.”

“Well”—Mavis swallowed to steady her voice, before looking at Riley and a completely baffled Will. “So did we.”

Riley beckoned Will over and whispered what Yrsa had said. He nodded before putting a hand on Riley’s arm, pulling her closer. Yrsa observed the exchange between the two of them with a frown.

“In wars, there will always be loss,” Yrsa said, more to herself than to the people she was visiting, gazing at the space behind them.

“Jonas said the same thing,” Riley said, recalling what Sun had told them.

“Jonas should know that more than most,” Yrsa said. “I’m surprised he’s still willing to cooperate with Veracity after what happened with Angelica.”

“You know Jonas?” Riley asked. “Then why did you say he couldn’t be trusted—”

Next to Riley, Will sighed as he put the pieces together. “You didn’t want us to get involved.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “ _You_ worked for Veracity. You were erasing the DNA data.”

“I did,” Yrsa admitted.

“What changed?” Riley asked.

Yrsa shook her head and sighed, not wanting to divulge. But there was a hint of emotion flickering on and off between their connection. Riley felt a passion intermingled with warmth. A familiar sensation—she’d often felt that way around Will. She smiled, relishing in the personal memories this feeling had brought.

 _Before Riley knew what was going on, she had latched on to the impression of whatever memory Yrsa had tried to repress, and she was looking at a strawberry blonde, green-eyed woman. The woman’s hands caressed her face, but her fingers didn’t quite graze_ her _skin: the memory felt foreign like she was experiencing the woman’s touch through a mask._

_Just as Riley was about to open her mouth and ask where she was, she shifted out of the body she was inhabiting and watched on the side as a younger, happier version of Yrsa smiled and kissed the other woman._

“Wars are not worth the risk. I know now.” Yrsa’s voice brought Riley back to the present.

The older woman narrowed her eyes at Riley. Mavis was gawking beside her, wide-eyed, muttering _woah_ under her breath.

 _What?_ Riley thought to Mavis.

 _That,_ Mavis replied, _was freaking impressive._

“You loved her.” Riley looked at Yrsa sheepishly, trying to suppress her guilt at accidentally finding the woman’s memory.

“I wish we’d never gotten that far,” Yrsa admitted.

“I’m not sure I agree.” Riley thought about Magnus. The scars his death had left on Riley had never fully healed, but she could never imagine giving up the memories they’d built.

In the back of Riley’s mind, unfamiliar voices echoed like long lost memories.

_“They’re still alive, Yrsa, I know they are.” The woman’s voice had a musicality to it, and the inflections of every word sounded like a wistful melody. Riley knew, somehow, that it belonged to the strawberry blonde-haired woman. “They’re keeping them hostage. I just have to find them.”_

_“Please be careful,” Yrsa said._

_“I remember what the facility looks like. What I need to do shouldn’t take long.”_

At the sight of Yrsa’s pursed lips in the present, Riley felt the synapses in the Psycellium ripping away, fading, detaching Riley’s mind from Yrsa’s. The pain upon the separation wasn’t sharp, but the lingering emptiness echoed in the space where the connection used to be, getting louder every time Riley— _Yrsa_ —tried to reach out with the tendrils of her own mind, hoping to feel _something_.

“I wish I hadn’t gone that far. I wish I hadn’t been given time to fall in love,” Yrsa explained, “because, unlike love between Sapiens, love between Sensates has far more dangerous consequences. And my selfish desire to love had killed us all.”

“Is that how Clusters are born?” Riley asked.

Yrsa nodded. “Most of us are products of love. Sensate children are much the same. But as a Sensate, love is a death sentence. By falling in love, by birthing more Clusters, we had doomed our children.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that, either.” She thought of her life before she connected with Will. In retrospect, it wasn’t much safer. It may have been a step up from having an entire organization chasing after her, but even after a year on the run, fearing for the life she finally decided she still wanted, Riley had cherished every second she had with Will.

Mavis, presumably having read Riley’s thoughts, nodded nearby as she fiddled with the bracelet she always wore.

“I know you don’t,” Yrsa told Riley. “Which is why I can’t help you.”

Before Yrsa could leave, Mavis stepped forward and tackled Yrsa into a hug, nearly knocking her back with the force of it. “I’ll try not to die, Mother,” Mavis reassured. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

“You have,” Yrsa conceded.

Mavis let go and turned to Riley and Will. “Well, so have they. Have a little faith in us.”

*

Will had always been a light sleeper. Riley knew this since they began living together. He’d jump out of bed at the slightest sound she made, ready to tackle what he thought was an attacker. She’d laugh, but she’d always remind herself to be quieter next time. That night Will turned as Riley slipped into bed next to him, making the old mattress creak. She gasped, thinking she had woken him. He shook his head and inched closer.

“I wouldn’t give it up for anything,” he told her. Riley had informed him, and Sun and Dani who was on guard duty, all that Yrsa had said.

Riley stroked his hair. “Give up what?”

Will smirked, knowing she just wanted him to say it. “You. _Us_.” He moved forward to peck her on the lips. “Being a Sensate. God, I can’t even remember being unborn.”

She cringed. “I remember the migraines.”

“Right. That wasn’t fun.”

She laughed. “But it was worth it,” she confessed as she reached down to pull the unzipped sleeping bag, their makeshift blanket, over both of them.

He responded by kissing her again, his nose crinkling slightly as their lips touched. When he pulled away, he opened his eyes, taking in her smile. He responded with a smile of his own before turning away to lie in a fetal position. She embraced him from behind.

“Good night, Will,” Riley mumbled in his ear and saw him frown.

“We haven’t gone on a date,” was his response.

That made her laugh. “I think everywhere is closed now.”

“Not today,” he said with a yawn, and she reached over to kiss him on the cheek, noting to herself that he needed another shave. She’d take care of it tomorrow, she thought as her fingers ran across his cheek, the coarse stubble scratching her skin.

“Why were you thinking about this?”

“Because”—Will inched back slightly, so her chest was against his back, and he could feel her heartbeats—“tonight Lito was telling me about this restaurant he and Hernando went to on their first date, and I got hungry.”

“I can make something if you want.”

“Mm, no.” Will mumbled, eyes closed now, shifting his head so that it burrowed deeper into his pillow. “It should be my treat. You’re always cooking.”

“I don’t mind cooking.”

“I know you don’t.” He turned his head back a little so she could see him, more or less. It was hard to tell with his eyes closed. “But I should”—he let out another yawn—“I should do something for you. And we haven’t been on a date.”

“You’re right, we haven’t,” Riley conceded, smoothing his hair back with her hand, a trick she knew worked better than any lullaby.

“I’ll find you somewhere nice,” he promised before he drifted off.

Will was the first person who made her believe she was worth saving. ( _After Magnus,_ she thought with a pang, but the pain had faded somewhat since she’d met Will.) Will had put his faith in her at the Iceland Facility. Faith that Riley, at the time, didn’t believe she deserved. But because of Will, Riley had decided to spare her own life. She loathed to think what would have happened had he not been there to stop her.

And now?

Maybe it was the nature of their connection, but every time they got away from the clutches of BPO under Whispers’ watchful eyes, Riley grew a little more optimistic about her future. _Their_ future.

Will was a fighter, that much was clear. He still believed he could save everyone despite all the times he had been proven wrong on his job. And Riley knew how many times he had broken from lost hope. Unlike her, he could never hide his nightmares, and at the end of the day, it was his innocence that made Riley fall in love a second time.

“I love you, Will,” Riley said as she watched his chest rise and fall. He didn’t respond, but he smiled, snoring gently.

*

**July 9, 2017**

Lito watched from across the kitchen table as Mavis logged on to her email from Nomi’s computer, typing out a series of codes to override all kinds of protection protocols set in place to encode her communication. She’d learned it from one of the Veracity hackers she worked with during her training, she told them, tilting her chin up as Nomi nodded in approval—the perfect disguise for a young Sensate trying to impress.

 _Identity was but a costume,_ the designer from Kit Wrangler’s party had said. (Lito didn’t even remember his name; the entire memory of the party was a blur). Mavis seemed able to shed one identity for another, as evidenced by the night she’d gone to Soho when she’d put on an air of sophistication with a black dress and a blonde wig. Lito was both curious to see what else she could become and nervous about what her skills implied.

“Ooh, new message.” Mavis leaped from her chair, and her shell of professionalism vanished, leaving behind the core of an excited twenty-one-year-old on her first big mission.

“Your Cluster-mate?” Will, too, sat forward in his seat.

Mavis nodded before she turned back to skim the email.

“Is that the Portuguese?” Will asked.

“Brazilian,” Mavis corrected, turning back to face Will. “But it’s not him, it’s someone else. And she says the professor she’s working with is attending this convention thing abroad…” She looked at the email again, ignoring Will, who had opened his mouth to ask another question. “Huh, she says he’s in Chicago, apparently. Sounds fishy. Lots of crazy stuff happening in Chicago.”

“Wait a minute, her _professor_?” Amanita interjected.

“Oh yeah, she’s in college. She got this internship at UCL this summer though, and she’s working with this neuroscientist who’s kind of a big deal. And she thinks—and I’m gonna agree with her because she’s freaking smart and she’s usually right about these things—that this scientist guy might be working with BPO.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for your Cluster-mate to be so high-profile?” Nomi asked.

Lito crossed his arms and huffed, pretending to be offended.

“Not like you, Lito,” Nomi quickly amended. “Your status is a good cover.”

Mavis shrugged. “None of us knew when this feud or whatever you wanna call it with BPO would end. We may as well try and live a little. Those of us who can afford to, anyway.”

“Are you sure she hasn’t been found out?” Sun asked.

“I’d say she probably hasn’t.”

“Why?” Sun asked.

“Because”—Mavis drawled, puffing out her chest dramatically, and Lito was reminded of the times he passed on new knowledge to Hernando for a change, the smugness of it all—“she’s always on Blockers, _and_ her birthday is registered as the first of July.”

“Is that legal?” Will asked.

“She was adopted from Kenya.” Mavis smirked. “They couldn’t pin down her exact birth date with a medical test. So… first of July.”

Capheus stopped in his tracks on his way to rinse out his coffee mug. “When was your birthday again?” he asked Mavis, his brows furrowed.

“June 6th. Why?”

Lito saw Capheus’ hands shake, though Capheus tried his best to suppress it. Capheus set the cup down on the counter. He might’ve ended up breaking it otherwise.

Riley turned to look at the Cluster, and all of them turned to Capheus, eyes full of hesitant anticipation. Hernando and Dani were looking at each other, frowning. Lito met their eyes and nodded slowly, giving them an “I’ll explain later” look.

Mavis tilted her head to look at all of them. “Okay, you people are scaring me. What’s wrong with my birthday?”

Capheus took a deep breath. Lito guessed he was going to ask anyway if only to eliminate the slightest possibility. “Your Cluster-mate. What is her name?”

“Grace.” Mavis said, then added, “Her original name is Kiira. It’s Kikuyu. Her parents kept it as her middle name. It’s what we call her—”

Capheus was leaning against the fridge for support now. “Kiira?” he asked to make sure he heard correctly.

Mavis nodded. “Why, do you know her?”

Everyone in the Cluster did, but knowing was an understatement. In their collective memory, Kiira was still the small bundle of giggles and big hopeful eyes. They were all aware Capheus still cried about the day they gave up his sister on bad nights.

Lito had often shed the tears in Capheus’ place. One night, months ago, Lito had sobbed so hard in his sleep, he had woken up and hugged a baffled Hernando and Dani in the middle of the night. They didn’t need an explanation to know he was hurting.

When Hernando would ask him about that night in the future, long after their struggles in London were nothing more than bittersweet memories, Lito would explain to his partner that he had grieved because he had dreamed of the moment Capheus’ sister left her mother’s arm, like the pain was his own. And he had heard Shiro’s crestfallen voice, a voice that carved a hole in their hearts.

_Goodbye, my Kiira*._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** So Kiira is a Kikuyu name that means dawn, and I think that’s beautiful. :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Dun dun dunnnnn WHAT A TWIST! I might be busy again for the next few days so hopefully this will hold you over for a while :)


	10. Sheer implausibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonas talks about the Chairman, and Capheus meets Kiira.
> 
> “Our existence depends on sheer implausibility.”  
> — From S1E4, “What’s Going On”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos? 1700 hits? And all these lovely comments? ON MY FIRST FANFIC?! You people are all so lovely, honestly. Here, have a fluff- and plot-loaded long chapter as a reward. It may or may not have gotten out of hand but I have no regrets!
> 
> The next chapter might not come for a while. Both my betas are doing summer fun stuff, while I'm gonna be stuck at my internship for one last week. BOOOOO. I'm so jealous of them! 
> 
> But I will return with what is probably gonna be another 6000 word chapter in a week's time. Or maybe less, who knows. So hang in there, dearies! <3

**July 9, 2017 (cont’d)**

“Have you procured the records from Rasal Pharmaceuticals?” Veronika asked, laying the phone flat on her desk as she leaned back in her leather chair.

“N-No ma’am,” Ajay said. “We’re getting close, but—”

Veronika tutted her tongue. “What did I tell you?” Her voice rose, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end. “You are to inform me _after_ you have secured the import and export records overseen by Mr. Rasal. Not before.”

“I-I know,” he explained, speaking as fast as he could. “W-we have found a new development with Rasal’s wife. That’s why I’m… that is why I’m calling.”

She waited for him to go on, drumming her long red nails against her mahogany desk.

“My men had pulled up some bank records,” he continued, “and they found a lot of transactions from Rasal’s account to France. Erm, I mean, Paris. We- we suspect Mrs. Rasal may have been relocated abroad.”

 _Clever, Mr. Rasal._ She reached for her favorite fountain pen, opened the cap, and dipped it in the bottle of indigo ink she always kept on her desk. “He knows his foolishness had put her in danger,” she observed, writing down the new development on her teal Moleskine. “Mr. Rasal must care for her a lot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ajay said. “He fears for her safety. He told me when Manendra Rasal started running for office.”

And here she thought only Sensates were foolhardy enough to fall prey to love. It was almost too easy. She scoffed.

Her arm shook slightly, and a blot of ink dripped from the black pen she held in midair and landed on the page. She dropped her phone on her desk and snatched a tissue paper from the box to suck up the ink before it bled through to the next page.

“Ma’am?” Ajay prompted, his voice partially muffled by the desktop.

“Yes, yes, I’m still here,” Veronika tried to sound impatient instead of irked. With a shaking hand, she carefully tore out the page from the planner, crumbling the paper into a ball with her hand. Then she dropped it on her desk and smashed it with a fist. “Forget about the storage unit records.”

“A-are you sure, ma’am?” he tried to sound like he didn’t hear the sound. “I promise, my men have been working around the clock—”

“Forget about those records,” she repeated, sounding impatient. She slammed her planner shut with a scowl, “and focus your resources on finding his wife.”

“Y-You wish to find Mrs. Rasal, ma’am? But I thought the plan was—”

“Plan’s changed.” Her steel blue eyes glinted slightly at the new revelation before she looked down at her desk and saw the teal Moleskine, which, she remembered with a twinge in her hand, now had a missing page.

 _Look what you did, Veronika. Gone and ruined this, too?_ The voice in her head she’d long forgotten returned with a vengeance, too many decibels above her threshold.

A tear slid from the corner of her eyes as she gritted her teeth, grabbed the Moleskine with a shaking hand, and flung it to her right as hard as she could. It hit the wall with a _thump_. She buried her face in her hands, mascara smearing across her palms.

She heard Ajay drew a sharp intake of breath through the speaker, but she knew he wouldn’t pry. “As you wish, ma’am,” he said, likely pretending to be unaware of her outburst.

Nodding at no one in particular, she turned her gaze away from the couch on top of which her journal now laid. “Yes, yes. This new means of coercion will be more effective.”

Veronika hung up before Ajay could say another word, and tossed her pen in her drawer with a clatter before pushing it shut.

*

“Tell me about the Chairman,” Will said, sitting next to Jonas on the couch that afternoon. The crew had all gathered around the living room after lunch, sitting in chairs they pulled from the kitchen. Even Kala visited from Mr. Hoy’s lab. Wolfgang, on the other hand, was in quarantine, Blocked at all hours.

Will had gathered that Veronika was an important figure from sifting through Whispers’ mind last night, but he wondered why he could not locate a memory with the Chairman’s face. Kala had speculated that perhaps the Chairman title was a ruse, and BPO has no single leader. Lito was inclined to agree—after Will showed them what he saw, the actor was certain the woman’s power over the Headhunter wasn’t an act.

“You are more right than you know.” Jonas looked at the three of them.

“Jonas,” Amanita chipped in, “if you’re gonna start playing games again—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “I have had some time to reconsider my way of teaching.”

Mavis muttered an “about time” under her breath, and a few others nodded. Even Sun let out a sigh of relief.

“So, the Chairman title is a lie?” Lito asked. Hernando leaned forward in his chair to listen, frowning as he tried to take in every word.

“In a manner of speaking.” Jonas chuckled when he heard Nomi groan. “The woman Will saw is in a leadership position in the organization,” he continued to explain, true to his word, “but those who work closely with her do not refer to her as the Chairman when they are discussing a private matter.”

“But she’s the Chairman as we know it?”

Jonas nodded. “She had asked me to refer to her as the Chairman after she intervened with my impending operation. She never told me her first name. But her business partners refer to her as Miss Makarova.”

“Veronika. That’s what Milton called her.”

Jonas nodded.

“What else do you know about her?” asked Nomi.

“She’s Russian. The Makarova name appears to be well known in Russia. It’s an open secret that they are associated with _Vor_.”

“Why is she in charge of BPO?” Will asked.

“I believe she joined the organization shortly after 9-11.”

“Whispers didn’t always work for her?”

Jonas shook his head. “No, Milton has been there long before her. She had acquired her position at the top of the organization a few years back. I haven’t been able to find out what happened to her competitors.”

Lito swallowed, hard.

“Do you think she’s got something to do with the missing people?” Nomi asked.

“Most likely, yes. Veronika's family was in charge of one of the most prominent drug dealing operations in Saint Petersburg. It would not be hard for someone with access to BPO resources to develop a new drug that counteracts the effects of Blockers.”

“And if she kept in touch with her family’s old connections, it would be easy to distribute the new product,” Kala added. Jonas gave her a nod.

“My father was negotiating with Russians a few years back,” Sun added. “I believe they never did reach a consensus.”

Amanita turned to her. “Do you think your brother’s still working with her?”

“Nothing about Joong-Ki surprises me anymore.”

Dani, who had been silent, leaned forward in her chair. “He’s not the only one.”

Sun raised an eyebrow.

Dani turned to Jonas. “You said her name was Makarova?” Jonas nodded. She let out a deep sigh. “Figures.”

“What is it?” Hernando asked.

“She’s one of my dad’s business contacts.”

Lito groaned, and Hernando buried his face in his hands.

Dani turned to them. “I saw Joaquín,” she told everyone, and they all shuddered except Mavis and Jonas, who looked at each other, confused.

“Joaquín?” Lito leaped a little in his chair. “He’s _here_? What is he doing here?”

Hernando lifted his face from his hands, his eyes wide open as he sunk back in his chair. “He could be negotiating with this… this Veronika woman,” he sounded hoarse. “Joaquín works with your parents, no?”

Dani nodded. Lito looked like he was about to descend into madness.

Jonas cleared his throat. “Knowing the names of her collaborators gives us an advantage.”

“Yeah. I’ll start keeping a tab on their transactions,” Nomi said.

Kala turned to Jonas. “Is there anything else you know about her?”

He thought about it. “When we were negotiating my new”—he looked at Will—“ _conditions_ … Something stood out in the way she spoke about Sensates.”

“How do you mean?” Sun asked.

“I believe you have already deduced the intention behind the recent attack?” Jonas asked. Everyone nodded. “I believe there is a personal reason she wants to turn the world against _Homo sensorium_.”

“She wants revenge against Sensates?” Capheus ventured. “But why?”

“Sadly”—Jonas glared at Will—“I was whisked away before I could investigate.”

Will crossed his arms. “We’ll ask when we get her.”

*

They made their ways down the stairs slowly, Will’s smile widening with every step as he guided a blindfolded Riley with one hand behind the small of her back. They’d missed dinner because Will had insisted on calling Diego from a burner phone to inform him of the nature of the missing person cases in California.

When the blindfold was lifted off, Riley realized she was in the kitchen. But the lights were off, and Lito was the only other person in the room. He wore a black suit and red bowtie, and what appeared to be his best leather shoes. Grinning, he held out a battered old pewter tray to offer them two glasses of some sparkling drink, which they accepted.

“Welcome to your first date.”

Lito gestured to the dining table with a white tablecloth, on top of which he’d placed a glass coke bottle with the label removed. A pink rose was inside the makeshift vase, and two candles were on either side. The dinner table was intended for a dozen people, so two plates, covered with larger plates used in place of lids, were put next to each other on one end. Small candles decked the rest of the table, forming an outline of a heart.

Will put his glass down and walked over to one side. He pulled out the chair for Riley to sit down before he took the seat opposite of her.

“So, what’s on the menu?” Riley asked.

Lito walked over and lifted the plate in front of her to reveal a medium steak, the way she liked it. Hernando had put sautéed carrots and asparagus on one side of the plate, and the peppery sauce on the other side was artfully poured into the shape of Cupid’s arrow puncturing a heart. Lito lifted Will’s plate to reveal an identical dish. Turned out coffee wasn’t the only thing they liked the same way.

Riley’s eyes widened. “Will! Wow. _You_ did this?”

“Uhh,” Will said, scratching the back of his neck as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Will’s astounding ability to burn the most basic dishes known to American adults had been a recurring joke among the Cluster ever since he’d divulged the secret to Lito, a choice he regretted. “I may have enlisted some help?”

“Hernando made the food. Dani picked the soundtrack,” Lito said to her a wink, flashing his signature swoon-worthy smirk. They hadn’t noticed the red music player plugged into the speaker Riley had brought, which was playing a classical piano piece.

“No appetizers?” Riley joked.

Will shrugged. “We were running out of groceries.”

Riley smiled before taking a sip of her drink, raising an eyebrow when she discovered it tasted like lemon. She was expecting something alcoholic. “What is this?”

“Homemade lemonade and sprite.” Will said, beaming. “I made it.”

“I like it,” Riley declared, holding up her glass. “Join us for a drink, Lito?”

Lito shook his head. “I am not crashing your date.” He opened the fridge and took out a jug filled with Will’s lemonade soda. “You can serve yourselves, yes?”

After Lito set the jug down on the table, he waltzed out of the kitchen, humming to himself as he bounced up the stairs. They laughed as they raised their glasses.

“To us.”

They threw back the drink, giggling as bubbles tingled their throats.

“I, uhh.” Will’s smile turned sheepish as he gestured to their dishes. “I did help with the chopping. But, umm, I didn’t wanna risk burning the house down.”

She laughed. “Is that what you say on all your first dates?”

“I”—Will paused, and decided to tease back. “I mean, usually we’d go to a restaurant? I don’t remember. It’s been a while.”

A ticked eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Huh, the last one was… God, before I started my job?” He frowned a little, nose crinkling. She found that particularly endearing on her cop.

“Well then, I feel very honored.”

Nodding, he paused for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth to try and figure out what to say in response. He gave up eventually. “Maybe we should eat first.”

She laughed and tried a piece of carrot. It was sautéed lightly and sprinkled with a pinch of salt. The surface was crisp, but the juice was still sweet inside. All her vegetables turned out bland. She made a note to ask Hernando to teach her his ways.

Will went straight for the steak. He cut a large piece and shoved it into his mouth, moaning when his taste buds decided it was the best steak he’d ever eaten. “God, this is _so good_.” He cut another piece and brought the fork to Riley’s mouth. “Try it.”

“You know I have the same thing,” she said but accepted it anyway, eyes widening when she took in the taste.

In return, she fed him a carrot. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste. Then he tried one from his own plate. “I think yours tastes better,” he concluded.

She made a move to switch their plates, but he put a hand on top of hers to stop her, wiggling his fingers to graze the back of her hand, a small tickling move, he’d discovered in their days in Amsterdam, that could always make her grin.

“It’s better because it’s yours.”

Her grin turned into a smirk. She reached over and stole a piece of his steak, bringing it into her mouth as his face morphed into one of mock vexation. “You’re right,” she said, taking a slow sip of her sparkling lemonade. “It is better.”

They clinked their glasses again, downing their second drinks.

It was then that they noticed what was playing on the speaker. They had been listening to mellow ambiance music for the last half hour or so (who was keeping time?), but all of a sudden, Riley perked up in her chair.

It was the _Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major_ , the same music that lulled Kala to sleep when they were still plotting a way to get Wolfgang back. With Wolfgang safe in Kala’s hands and the new situation with Veracity, it seemed a lifetime ago that their biggest concern was how to interrogate a certain white-haired Headhunter.

Will frowned, concentrating. “I think I’ve heard this before.”

“My papa used to play this a lot. It was one of my favorites.”

He paused to listen. “I like it. Did you ever learn to play an instrument?”

“I used to play the piano. Papa taught me the ukulele, too.”

“Do you know how to play this one?”

She shook her head. “I used to beg him to teach me. He told me it’s a lot harder than it sounds, and he’d teach me when I was older.” She looked down at the fork in her hand. “But I don’t play anymore.”

His gaze softened. “You don’t have to tell me if—”

“I stopped when mama died. She used to watch me play.” She swallowed hard, remembering the times she looked to her right as she played, expecting to see her mother but finding nothing but empty space. “Sorry.” She shook her head, smiling in apology.

He returned the smile and reached over, putting his hands over hers, prompting her to look into his eyes. “It’s good to remember.” He sounded wistful. “That’s what my dad used to say.”

“It is,” she agreed.

“I don’t remember my mother,” he continued. “But dad said I take after her.”

“What was she like?”

“She was a social worker. He said she worked at a children’s shelter.”

Riley pictured a smiling woman with warm eyes like Will’s. She would have liked to get to know her.

He smiled. “A lot of her kids used to get in trouble with the cops. That’s how they met.”

“Did she get them out of trouble?”

“Mm. Dad said she was pretty forgiving. They argued a lot about these things. She always insisted on giving them another chance.”

She thought about it. “Did he listen?”

“Not always. More often when they started dating, though.”

She laughed.

“I think, when she died, he went back to how he was before.” He picked at the vegetables on his plate. “Especially with me. I thought I could never make him proud. And all the shoplifting and lock-picking didn’t exactly help,” he tried for self-deprecation, hoping to lighten the mood.

Riley shook her head. “That’s not the Will I know.”

“Isn’t it?”

She walked over to embrace him from behind and kissed the top of his head. “The Will who saved me from Iceland? The one who never gave up searching for Sara Patrell? I believe he would have been proud if he knew the truth.”

*

**July 10, 2017**

Kiira had set up a meeting with Capheus at a cafe near University College London.

Mavis had insisted that at this stage in the operation, it was best to have everything in the open. Of course, it was entirely possible that Kiira's birthday and country of birth were no more than a miraculous coincident, but apparently, there was another way, a Sensate way, to confirm their relation.

Though as soon as Capheus made his way to the back of the cafe where the booths were, as soon as the young woman looked up from the book she was reading, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , he knew. It was like looking at a young version of the mother he remembered from his early childhood. Except her hair was tied up in two afro puffs atop her head, and she was donned in black ballet flats and a white off-shoulder dress.

Then a memory of her birth flashed before his eyes, and his flashed before hers. Kiira tilted her head to examine his expression, big brown eyes filled with curiosity. Just as he remembered when he was eight.

“I suppose this tests your hypothesis,” she concluded. Her voice was soft and had a light quality to it, unlike the chipper way Mavis spoke. And, despite knowing she was raised in Cambridge, her accent gave him a pause. “I’ll be honest, I don’t quite know what to say in a situation like this. I haven’t pictured this scenario in my mind for years.”

He nodded, mouth hanging halfway open. Words became a jumble in his mind, but everyone else except Sun, who was on just-in-case security duty, was on Blockers. _I would start with a simple hello,_ she suggested.

“H-Hello, Kiira,” he croaked.

“Right. Hello.” Kiira leaned forward, tilting her head a bit to the left. “I suppose that is the most logical response. Capheus, is it?”

She was calmer than he had expected. Though come to think again, he wasn’t sure his mind was in a state to expect anything before the meeting—it all happened so fast. But her composure, and the fact that he was surprised by what he was witnessing, only served as a reminder of how much he didn’t know about his own sister.

Kiira cradled her mug with her hands and turned it back and forth on top of the saucer, one thumb fiddling with the string attached to the teabag inside. “I’m Grace to most people,” she told him, interrupting the train of thought he now realized must have been broadcasted to her mind as well. “But you can call me Kiira if you wish. My family does.”

“O-Okay, yes.” Capheus’ cheeks flushed.

He and his mother had picked the name together, but he reminded himself that they were not the family she grew up knowing. Mavis had called her Kiira, but she was in her Cluster. Could he do the same? Or was he overstepping? He shouldn’t have assumed—

“It’s alright, really,” she reassured, smiling politely. He could have kicked himself for forgetting, for the second time, that they were both Sensates. “It’s… I do like the name.” _Something from my past to remember by,_ he heard her think.

“Would you like to know about”—he stopped himself, wondering if the question would make her angry. Or upset. Or both? Did she inherit mother’s temper or father’s?

She nodded, knowing what he was going to ask. “Tell me.”

He didn’t know where to start.

“Mavis told me you’re running for political office?” she prompted, pulling her teabag out of the mug to lay on the saucer. “Does it run in the family?”

“Well, in a way. Our father set up a tea planters’ union.”

“Is he still in office?”

“No.” He sighed. “He was killed during one of his riots.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I’m sorry. It must have been hard for you.” The grief in her mind was an echo of his. He knew from the thoughts that ran through their shared mind that she was wondering how _she_ should feel, and what was expected of someone in her situation.

“It was hard on all of us, yes. We were”—Capheus recalled how he and his mother had starved, how he had worried if his then-unborn sister would survive. He hoped she’d hear him out. She furrowed her brows as she picked up the thought.

She looked up. “Was that why…”

He wasn’t the only one at a loss for words. But if Mavis was truthful about how long she had been reborn, that meant Kiira would be more acquainted with her powers than he was. And it appeared Mavis was telling the truth, he concluded, as he saw glimpses of a young Kiira laying awake at night, mentally listing the 50-and-ongoing possible reasons she was separated from her birth family.

“We never wanted to let you go, Kiira.” He tried to bring forth the memory he had shared with Riley at the graveyard, but being on Blockers all the time meant he was out of practice, and the images came out slightly blurred, his mother’s voice somewhat distant. “But we wanted to give you your best chance.”

She was silent for a while as tears brimmed in her eyes. For a moment, he thought he had upset her. But she shook her head.

“It’s not… It’s… I felt your”—Kiira sighed, giving up when she couldn’t find the right words to describe the emotions she’d received from the memory. “Thank you.”

“I owe you the truth.”

She thought about it. “We’ve not gotten acquainted enough to owe each other anything.”

“I guess not,” he conceded. “But… I’m sorry if I’m overstepping”— _but are you happy?_ his mind blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I am.”

“Mavis told me you’re in medical school? What a gift.”

She nodded. “It is. I’m studying to become a neurosurgeon.”

“I don’t know if this means anything to you,” he looked at Kiira, who nodded, prompting him to continue. “But our mother, she wanted to be a doctor, too.”

“Interesting,” she said, tilting her head a bit to the left again.

She was raised by two English professors, and she’d always wondered if her desire to heal came from her birth family. He smiled when he heard her thoughts. But her parents were in Cambridge, and she was in London. And Whispers and the others were still hunting. “Is it… Is it safe for you?” _To be out here? Alone?_

Her eyes widened. He knew she’d come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial for the sake of their safety to stop talking out loud and directly project their thoughts into each other’s minds. _Mavis’ contacts got me enough Blockers for a decade._

_But what about your professor?_

Kiira fished a phone from a backpack she kept near her side and showed him a picture of the professor’s profile on the UCL website: Andreas Thorsten. Acclaimed neurologist. Received his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago.

 _I’m working on a way to locate alternate IDs he may be using—_ she pointed at the picture of the professor on her phone— _but it would be a challenge. It would be highly illogical for him to keep his medical records in his office. I don’t know where else I could look._

_We have someone who can do background checks._

_Your Cluster-mate?_

_Yes. She’s very good at accessing the inaccessible,_ he thought, beaming.

Kiira nodded, impressed. _Seems you have quite a resourceful assembly._

_We do._

_I’m glad to be of help. I wish I could have come with you._

_I’m sorry about your Cluster-mate._ They had been informed about Morgan’s death, Kiira saw inside their collection of recent memories.

_Thank you._

She looked at the back cover of _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ on her lap, and Capheus knew she was listing 50-and-ongoing possible ways she could exact revenge on the BPO Headhunter like an organized mental to-do list.

 _I’m worried about Mavis_ , she admitted. _How is she?_

He showed her his memories of the young ex-spy inside his head, starting with the image of Mavis rolling her eyes as Will pinned her against the front of the van, to Kiira’s utter amusement judging by her giggle.

They sat in silence for a while as he waited for Kiira to sift through his mind. As the sky dimmed outside, she looked at the leather-strapped watch on her wrist. “I’m afraid I must to leave. I’d rather reach my flat before it gets dark.”

Kiira stood up, as did Capheus. “Do you need an escort?”

She shook her head but smiled. “That won’t be necessary. It’s only three blocks away”— _and it’s best if we go in different directions_ _in case we’re followed_. “But thank you.”

Before she made a move towards the stairs, though, she paused to survey Capheus again. His head was slightly bowed so could see eye-to-eye, and his hands were clasped in front of his chest. Upon seeing the signature tilt of her head, he read her thoughts and found out she had a tendency to do the same whenever she was nervous. She was counting the little cues in his mannerisms that she too possessed, wondering how many were caused by genetic factors.

Then his mouth opened slightly as he searched for more to say. Truth be told, it had been years since he last imagined the two of them meeting in person, too. He projected this thought forward, hoping she would hear it.

She nodded.

“Imagining a meeting is different from experiencing it,” she concluded. “But it’s been good, getting to know you.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. Her grip was firm, and her chin was raised, giving off an air of confidence much like their late father.

“Yes, it’s wonderful to finally meet.” _I’ve missed you._

“You could stay a while longer. They have excellent tea,” she told him before she made her way down the stairs.

_I hope we’ll meet again, Capheus._

*

The last thing Sun had expected that night was a call from Detective Mun. But life’s found a way of defying her expectations once again, she concluded, as Nomi shoved a burner phone into her hand and guided her to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you had a romantic streak, Miss Bak,” Mun said through the line. “But thanks for the chocolate bars. They’re my favorite.”

_It’s true. He used to buy one every day._

Sun glared, and Nomi winked and nodded at the phone. “There are many things you don’t know about me.”

“That’s true. I don’t even know where you are.”

“Nice try, Detective.”

She heard ruffling from the other end. Then, “Huh. No return address on the envelope. Well, it was worth a shot.”

She glowered as she focused on the presence of Nomi’s mind. _You sent a card?_

 _Who sends gifts without a greeting card?_ was the reply.

“My friends at the station,” Mun continued, “told me someone found the footage of my shooting from the Gala?”

“And?”

There was the sound of a wrapper opening, then he gave a slight, satisfied moan as he bit into the chocolate bar, savoring the taste. She sighed, annoyed at the dramatic pause.

“I’m asking because… You disappeared, and then a mysterious stranger tipped off the police?” he asked with his mouth still full, before swallowing. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re involved.”

 _Mrs. Cho was right,_ Sun thought, crossing her arms. _Rhetorical questions are the worst._

“Don’t worry, Miss Bak. I’m looking for your brother, not you.”

“Stay away from Joong-Ki. He is more dangerous than you think.”

“I know,” he sounded almost solemn when he spoke again, but then the air of gravity was broken with a chuckle. “But so am I. He’s failed to kill me twice, after all.”

If they were talking in person and he wasn’t injured, she would have punched the smug grin she knew he was wearing right off his face. “I’m serious, Detective.”

“So am I. I can take care of myself, Miss Bak.”

“Just be careful.”

“I’ll talk to my lawyer tomorrow when I get out,” he told her. She heard him break off another piece of chocolate. “He’s not getting away that easily.”

*

Wolfgang was addicted to hearing Kala talk about grenades. Maybe it was because her improvised explosive had once saved his life at his uncle’s. Perhaps she always looked like a Goddess when she was surrounded by orange flames; or, in this case, rows of colorful chemicals bubbling in beakers.

“It has to be able to break on impact,” Kala said to Mr. Hoy, who was sitting on a stool nearby, documenting their progress with the Blocker assembly that day. “But if we were to carry it around, we also can’t risk having it break by accident.”

“Aye, you won’t want your wee backs to be marred when you’ve got Headhunters chasin’ after you,” Mr. Hoy agreed.

She turned to Wolfgang and Felix, who sat nearby, pressing filled black capsules together with their other halves, the last batch that day. “What do you think?”

“Bombs are always a good idea,” Felix said.

Wolfgang nodded. “They won’t be expecting it. And it’s easier to aim.”

The clock struck twelve. Felix passed Wolfgang the pressed capsules and bade everyone good night, followed by Mr. Hoy, who retreated into the Speakeasy underneath the chemical workstation to contact an Archipelago Blocker dealer.

Wolfgang counted twenty capsules to put inside each reused bottle. He covered the old labels with blank stickers and wrote the new date on top.

Kala stood up to go wash the beakers near the sink. “I suppose it would be useful for those of us who can’t shoot well. But it’s not as fatal.”

Wolfgang smiled at the way she frowned when she thought about the damage her explosive should bring. “Do you want it to be?”

She turned off the tap so he could hear her response. “It just has to be corrosive and create enough of obstruction for people to stop shooting at us. But oh”—she turned around and ran back to her laptop, still speaking as she frantically typed down her ideas before she could forget—“if I can create a reaction that produces a poisonous fog, perhaps it could take out the enemies more permanently.”

He stood up and inched his way towards where she sat, one side leaning against the edge of the station for support. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds very sexy.”

She smiled as she scrolled up, scanning her earlier notes for the grenade design. Her hair was in a messy bun, and one strand had fallen loose on the side. He reached out a hand to tuck it inside the rubber band, kissing the area where it tickled her neck.

“It’s midnight,” he said into her ear.

She turned to face him, frowning as she took in his still-pallid complexion. “You should go to bed, _bhediya_.”

“What about you?”

“I’m working on the formula for the grenade.” She turned back to her screen.

Words he never thought he’d hear someone say. He smirked, showcasing his dimples in their entirety. “You can finish tomorrow.”

As if on cue, she yawned. “No, you go ahead. I’ll finish up.”

“I’ll wait for you, then.” He tried to sit down slowly, but the stool he had chosen was too low, and his body betrayed him as he let out a strained gasp. Felix was right. He still needed a fucking cane.

She sighed, turning back to him as she lowered her stool to look him in the eye. “Wolfgang. You’re recovering. Go to bed.”

And that smirk was back, the one that made her cave every time. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my cane.”

“ _Wolfgang_ ,” she groaned, closing her laptop. She stood up. “Alright,” she declared, crossing her arms. “I am only helping you because I don’t want you to fall down the stairs.”

His smirk grew wider. “Yeah, okay.”

She held out her hand and pulled him up gently. She wasn’t wearing heels, and for the first time, she noticed their height difference: she’d have to stand on tiptoes so their eyes could be at the same level. Laying his arm on her shoulder, she put her arm against the small of his back and guided him outside the room.

The stairs weren’t much of a challenge, but she could tell they were going a little too fast for his comfort even though he tried to keep himself from grunting. All the way up, she wondered if she should scold him for not using his cane, but then he paused halfway to catch his breath, and she nearly kicked herself for being harsh.

Her grip on his back tightened, and her voice was softer when she spoke again. “We’re almost there.”

He nodded and continued walking, slower now, trying to keep his frantic breathing under control. When they reached the top and rounded the corner, they stepped into the first room, the one they’d been sharing. She guided him to bed and gave him a new ration of Blockers, not wanting any Headhunters to invade his mind in his sleep.

He’d all but collapsed into the bed when he tried to lie down.

After washing up, she climbed in from the other side. He turned to watch as she settled in next to him, smiling when she noticed she was still awake. She helped him undress, lifting the shirt he wore over his chest, and he cringed when he looked down and was greeted by the new bruises and old scars he’d tried to forget.

She pulled the shirt off, lowering his head into the pillow slowly. Then she took off his pants and socks but decided against pulling off his boxers. She had caved enough for one night.

“It’s getting better,” Kala said, kissing a particularly angry bruise.

Wolfgang wasn’t sure he believed that. But when she laid down again and turned to face him, she was smiling, and the last thing he wanted was to see the smile vanish. So he nodded and inched closer to peck her on the lips.

She closed her eyes and hummed, sounding content. He smoothed her hair back with his fingers in the way he knew she found calming, and soon he felt her drifting off, her presence fogging in their shared consciousness until only an ever-present radiance remained, even as his Blocker kicked into place.

“You’re the cure,” he mumbled, watching her smile grow wider as she slept.


	11. La parca negra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lila’s Cluster is up to no good, and neither is Whispers.
> 
> “At some point, we all encounter our own parca negra. He is that thing we are afraid of, that thing that stops us from becoming what we know we can become.”  
> — From S1E6, “Demons”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the continued support on various platforms. I am addicted to comments, especially the sound of people screaming at my newest plot developments.

**July 11, 2017**

When Will woke in the middle of the night, he heard voices echo as Whispers’ vision drew into focus in their shared mind.

He felt Riley wake beside him, moving over to hold his hand, her other hand presumably reaching for the Blockers they kept on the nightstand. He stirred, opened his eyes and gestured for the syringe next to the bottle of Blockers, their emergency heroin supply. He wished he could have had a larger dose, but Kala had advised against it in case he relapsed.

Still, he wasn’t going to let this impromptu dream-connection slip away.

His vision was slipping back and forth between the room he shared with Riley and the scene unfolding in the BPO office, and Whispers’ presence was far from welcoming. But he latched on to the coldness in the corner of the Psycellium that he knew belonged to the Headhunter. At this stage in the war, more information was hardly a bad thing.

It was getting a lot easier for Will to learn what the Headhunter was thinking or doing anytime his Blockers were wearing off. He wondered when he had gone from hiding from Whispers’ prying to actively creeping around in the man’s head. When a Sensate is on the run, he supposed, all the ethics of mind-reading goes out the window. Though he wasn’t sure he liked beating the Headhunter at his own game, as satisfying as it was to get answers.

He shooed the thought away when Whispers’ vision came into focus again.

_There was a laptop in front of him, and Will squinted, trying to make out the image on the screen. It looked like a Google map of Great Britain. There were red dots scattered all across the country, congregating around certain points, one of which he guessed was London. But Whispers was scrolling up to zoom in on Scotland._

_The heroin kicked in, and the words became clearer, as did the voices._

_“Are you certain it was Felix Berner that he saw?” Whispers asked, addressing a young man who Will saw standing on the other side of his desk. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his shirt was plastered to his body with sweat._

_The man had a Russian accent when he spoke. “He said he was in disguise, but he remembered him. They used to work together.”_

_“Your informant was in Aberdeen?”_

_“Yes, sir. He saw them get on another platform.”_

_Will felt Whispers sigh. “Was anyone else with him?”_

_“A woman. And a man in a wheelchair. Their faces were hidden.”_

_Whispers chuckles. “Must be Mrs. Rasal and Mr. Bogdanow.”_

Will knew Whispers already found out Kala worked as a chemist for Rasal Pharmaceuticals. A glimpse into the Headhunter’s recent memory showed that that morning, he’d learned the Blocker traders were making their ways across the Archipelago with an added frenzy because of the new drug-induced mass-huntings. At a time like this, it wouldn’t be hard to deduce what a chemist like Kala would be up to.

_“What day was this?” Whispers asked._

_“The 20th, sir.”_

_“Then go back to your office and start searching.”_

Shit. Whispers was getting too close for comfort. Although -

 _Hoy_ , Will thought, trying to trigger any possible memories the Headhunter might have. _Mr. Hoy. Old Man of Hoy?_

There was no echo, no images shifting around to reveal the face Riley had seen at the rave. Will breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Whispers never knew him. Or perhaps he knew him by a different alias?

The scene faded into darkness, before coming into focus in a different place. Both Will and Whispers were looking at Riley’s face in bed. Will shut his eyes immediately, tapping his finger on Riley’s hand. She put a Blocker in his mouth and handed him a bottle of water, which he chugged.

The last thing he knew Whispers heard before the connection was cut off, was the sound of Riley’s voice, asking what had happened.

“Whispers might find the lab,” he told Riley as he sprang up in their bed. “We need to warn them.”

*

Rajan’s apartment felt empty without Kala.

It was especially hard for Rajan to wake up and see the empty space next to him. Rajan had gotten used to seeing Kala on the patio, smiling at the view of Mumbai below. Sometimes she’d sing in the shower and wake him up. In fact, he had become so dependent on her voice that he’d forgotten to reset his phone alarm.

 _Damn it._ He was going to miss his meeting with Agent Singh.

He made his way across the living room and saw the new gift-wrapped box sitting on the coffee table and suppressed a shudder. The man at the reception desk had given it to him last night, saying Mr. Kapoor had dropped it off, but he was too tired to deal with it then.

It wasn’t hard to guess what was inside. He’d received another jade Ganesha statues in his mail a few days after Kala had left for Paris. The box had been wrapped in pure white paper, and the word _Transparent_ had been written in English at the top.

But right now, Rajan had a meeting to go to. As soon as the elevator opened on the ground floor, he ran into the car waiting in front of the apartment building, his ever-vigilant bodyguard Vikram following close. His driver stepped on the pedal as soon as Vikram shut the door. They zig-zagged through the busy streets full of trucks and bikes and auto rickshaws. In his sleep-deprived state, the motion made Rajan’s head spin.

When Rajan finally made it into his office, hoping his sweat didn’t seep through the gray suit he’d haphazardly thrown on, Agent Singh stood from where he sat on the couch. Vikram stood by the door, keeping an eye out for potential intrusions.

They shook hands, and Rajan apologized for being late.

“It’s alright, Rajan. Sit down.” Agent Singh gestured to the seat next to him. He reached for a binder he’d put on the coffee table and opened it.

“Sir, about Ajay”—Rajan started.

Agent Singh waved him off. “We have our eyes on Mr. Kapoor, watching for evidence of suspicious activities. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Have you found anything?” Rajan asked, eyeing the folder.

“Mr. Kapoor had been exporting a lot of funds to a Russian account for the past”—Agent Singh took out a piece of printed records from inside the folder and skimmed it—“fifteen months. My men believe he could have been negotiating a contract with _Vor_.”

Rajan’s eyes widened. “O-over a year?”

“It’s not the first transaction he’s made with that account. We’ve pulled up records of multiple transactions between them, several years past. We believe whoever the Russian was, they could be a long-term business partner.”

“Have you found a name?”

“The account was deactivated three months ago. All records on identity erased.”

 _Damn it._ Rajan frowned. “Sir, does this means my collaboration with Ajay…” He looked up, not wanting to vocalize _that_ thought.

Agent Singh seemed to have understood. “We will take your cooperation into consideration when we start our investigation into Rasal Pharmaceuticals. But I am afraid your previous involvement with Ajay Kapoor will be reflected in your records.”

Rajan’s eyelid twitched. “I understand.”

“But we will remember that you came forward with your knowledge to help with the investigation, Rajan.”

Rajan pressed his palms together, bowing his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Sir.”

Agent Singh nodded. “I came to inform you of the latest development, courtesy of your assistance with our investigation. But I wouldn’t worry too much about your penalty—it’s not enough to warrant jail time. And the fine should be more than affordable.”

“What about this company?”

“I don’t think your company is the only one making unlawful profits from expired drugs,” Agent Singh said. “A reputable company such as this should survive the scandal, especially if people hear you willingly cooperated.”

 _Thank you,_ Rajan thought, to no deity in particular.

“What about Ajay?”

“If I were him, I would leave this country immediately.”

Rajan breathed a sigh of relief.

“But”—Agent Singh continued, and Rajan held back a groan—“if we are really dealing with _Vor_ , it may be months before any of us can gather enough evidence on this Russian business partner to prosecute Ajay if we can find anything at all.”

If he had been alone, Rajan would have sworn.

Rajan was in no mood to stay in his office after the meeting, so after Agent Singh left, he asked his driver to take him back to the apartment. The minute he got home, he charged straight into the living room, ripping open the gift box wrapped in sunshine yellow—the color of the dress Kala wore on their first date.

There was no card, but there was a jade Ganesha statue as he’d expected. It broke into pieces as soon as he laid his hand on it, one sharp corner pricking his palm. _Fuck_. He dumped the rest of the content on the coffee table, not caring whether he’d made a dent on the glass surface.

But the statue wasn’t the only thing in the box. Wilted red rose petals fell out from the bottom of the box, drifting in mid-air before gently landing on top of the broken statue like a scene from a morbid fairy tale.

His phone rang, and he plucked it out of his suit pocket so fast, he nearly lost his grip and dropped it on top of the shattered statue.

“What are you playing at?” Rajan growled.

“Did you enjoy my present?” Ajay asked, chuckling.

“I told you it’s over.”

“Rajan, would you really throw your company into the scandal for a woman? For some ridiculous moral righteousness standard? I didn’t think you were the type.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” Ajay laughed. “I know how far you’re willing to go to keep Kala safe. Speaking of, I haven’t seen her these days. How is she?”

Rajan clutched his fist. “Whatever problem you have with me is between us. Stop harassing my wife,” he demanded, voice raised.

“Why worry, Rajan? We both know Kala’s out of my reach.”

Rajan scowled. “I’m keeping her safe with me, yes. For a good reason.”

“I know she’s not living in your apartment.”

 _What?_ Rajan mouthed and turned to Vikram, who stood nearby, stoic as ever. The bodyguard raised an eyebrow before he looked around the room, scanning for suspicious devices.

Ajay chuckled. “I heard Paris is beautiful this time of year. The perfect time to visit, wouldn’t you say?”

*

Lila wanted to live without a leash around her neck.

She had always been this way. Her parents and older brother had never approved. _You are part of this family,_ they used to say. _Always was, and always will be._

But they weren’t the family that she needed.

She had always prided herself on her perception, her ability to read both Sensates and Sapiens in the blink of an eye. Everyone in Naples knew that as a Facchini, Lila was trained in the art of manipulation from day one, but she’d suspected there was something about her that set her apart from her parents and brother. There were times she could sense someone’s intention the moment their eyes locked. And it was more than a hunch.

Lila used to think it was a hallucination. After her rebirth, her Mother had been quick to discount that theory.

“Dogan is dead?” Maitake asked from where he stood beside her, on the patio of Sebastian Fuch’s penthouse in Berlin.

Lila didn’t flinch when Maitake visited with his black cotton shirt halfway unbuttoned, the serpentine body of the Japanese dragon tattoo on his chest peeking out from his open collars. She was used to seeing her Cluster-mates in various states of undress, and she knew he was changing into more formal attire for dinner with some of the Headhunters, per another one of Veronika’s orders.

She nodded, taking a drag of her cigarette before offering one to him. He accepted it. She handed him a lighter. “Marcela helped. Sebastian was useless.” _As always._

They gazed out, looking at the city clothed in the glory of dusk, orange and pink rays pouring into the open streets. Down below, vulnerable pedestrians walked on, unaware they were being watched. The two of them exhaled and watched as the light gray smoke tinted the sky for a few moments before it disappeared.

Marcela visited, appearing behind them. They turned when they sensed her presence. She wore a vibrant purple dress that hugged her curves, and her black hair was newly curled. Lila could smell perfume.

“Good?” Marcela asked.

The corners of Lila’s mouth lifted for a second as the setting around them changed into the inside of Marcela’s hotel room in London, complete with ebony furniture and backlit mirrors. Lila had to admit BPO was generous when it came to accommodations. Maybe they knew from the beginning that the hotel rooms would turn into prisons.

“Purple looks good on you,” Lila said. “Veronika is going to be jealous.”

Marcela nodded, her expression unchanged. “This shows Veronika we’re unfazed by her little games. If we want to find Sylvie, we have to wait for her to slip up. Jealousy could work in our favor.”

Lila knew better the to question the logic of a well-trained Mexican assassin.

Memories of Sylvie, their Congolese Cluster-mate, flashed through their shared consciousness. Lila could still hear Sylvie’s voice singing Fally Ipupa's songs, the sweet soprano weaving through the Psycellium like one of Sylvie’s unique hand-etched carpets. Fighting was far from Sylvie’s strong suit, but she had insisted on joining the action in the last trade-off. _Mai soli means we fight together_ , she’d said to Lila as their silver van drove into the middle of the gunfight with the August 8 Cluster.

The three of them were silent for a moment as they reminded themselves why they hadn’t put a bullet through Veronika’s temple. Lila’s lips curled into a sneer. If Veronika thought confiscating one of the Cluster could make the rest of them obey, she apparently didn’t know Lila as much as she’d claimed.

Maitake turned to Lila. “What is your plan?”

She turned and nodded at the interior of the penthouse. The drop-down windows of the top floor gave her a good view of the elevator that led straight to the living room. Sebastian was on his way back from Zurich. He would be here in a few hours.

Marcela stepped forward. “You wish to do it alone?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lila said.

Maitake frowned. “Lila, be smart.”

“I am.” Lila crossed her arms. “Veronika wishes to make a deal with Sebastian. She plans to use his dealers for the next Hunt.”

“This is reckless,” Maitake protested. “You should wait for us to come back before you act.”

Lila shook her head. “I will call you if there’s a problem. There shouldn’t be.”

Maitake and Marcela frowned but didn’t protest further.

“See you soon,” Lila said as they disappeared.

BPO had known about Lila’s Cluster since the day they were reborn, but their willing collaboration with the Headhunters was Lila’s decision. BPO had promised them research into their anatomy and immunity from their Sensate-Hunts, and Lila was blindsided, too eager to find out what made her special, to realize the repercussions of a deal with Sapiens. Lila had convinced all of her Cluster to stay on BPO’s side—to hunt, rather than be hunted.

Jonas had warned Lila not to test their luck like this. She wished she had listened.

Veronika was a lying snake, like most people in Lila’s life. She’d known the Russian woman was bad news the moment she laid eyes on her. But instead of recoiling, Lila had pushed her Cluster right under Veronika’s fangs, believing that one day, they could kill her with her own venom. Now all of Lila’s Cluster was paying for her delusions.

But if there was one thing Lila believed herself capable of doing, it was fixing her mistakes.

*

In Chicago, the trains creaked when they turned, and all one could see when they looked out the window was more city: busy streets, brown buildings, areas behind billboard signs no one ever cleaned, or houses set too close together, bracing themselves against the oncoming noise pollution.

To Will, trains were inevitable, an irritating part of his life that made him groan during rush hours. Train rides weren’t meant to be scenic, save for the one he shared with Riley in Amsterdam after their daring escape. Usually, he expected to see more people’s heads than trees. But, he supposed as he looked out the window of the Eurostar, watching the afternoon sun cast a pleasant warmth over the farms he passed by, having a private compartment meant he was given the luxury of peace without being disturbed by strangers.

Riley was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder. He wondered what she was thinking. It was so easy to take their connection for granted until they started to stay on Blockers during the day, too. She shifted her head, prompting him to face her.

“Have you been to Paris?” Riley asked.

“I’ve never even been outside the States before I went to Iceland.” Will cringed, remembering ambulances and helicopters and the dense fog high up in the mountains.

Nomi and Amanita had fallen asleep on the opposite bench, huddled together, headphones over their ears. Kala, Wolfgang, and Felix should be due in Paris soon. Sun and Jonas were in St. Pancras, waiting for the next train. The rest of the group planned to travel the day after.

Quietly, Riley said, “I’m sorry you had to see Iceland like that.”

“Mm.” Will pretended to think hard as he ran a thumb under her cheekbone. “I mean, last time wasn’t all bad.”

He smirked impishly before lowering his head to bop the tip of his nose against her forehead. Pretending to be annoyed, Riley elbowed him gently on the side, and he contorted his face in mock pain, so adorably dramatic that Lito would have been proud.

They looked out the window in silence for a few minutes before he asked, “You’ve been to Paris before, haven’t you?”

“Papa’s orchestra had a few concerts there. I did a few shows, too.”

“I’ve never been to any of your shows,” Will said. Neither of them thought the one in Amsterdam really counted. “Maybe you can do one in Paris when BPO’s out of the picture?”

“Add it to the list.”

He sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to stay inside. I would have liked to see Paris.”

“If we weren’t on Blockers, I could show you my memories.”

Will sat up, and Riley lifted her head from his shoulder, pulling herself up to sit cross-legged on their shared bench. He turned to her, propping an elbow on top of the back cushion. “We don’t have to wait ‘till tonight. Just tell me,” he said.

“About what?”

“What else did you do in Paris?”

Riley smiled wistfully. “When I was younger, mama always came with us on these trips. We’d go to the Louvre.”

Will realized they’d never talked about her mother. He didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable. “Did she like art?”

“She was a painter.”

His eyes widened as he remembered the paintings hanging in Riley’s house when he visited. He’d assumed they’d bought them. “What did she like to paint?”

“Landscapes, mostly. She was into abstractions, impressionism, that kind of style.”

“Like Monet?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “You learned about Monet?”

“High school art project. We had to either write a paper or paint something.”

“Really? And you chose to write a paper?”

Will scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “Yeah, I can’t paint.”

Riley giggled. “Anyone can paint. You just haven’t found your style.”

“Ha. Tell that to my art teacher.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

He paused, furrowing his brows for a few seconds before he turned to her again. “What was your style?”

“I was more into music. But sometimes I tried to paint like Van Gogh.”

All Will knew about Van Gogh was _The Starry Night_ and the fact that he’d cut off his right ear. But it made sense for Riley to like his style. When they were hiding out in a village in the Netherlands whose name he couldn’t remember, she’d stay up and watch the stars.

“Was he your favorite?” Will asked.

“One of them. Mama showed me some impressionist paintings in the Louvre. Oh!”—Riley’s face brightened. She moved away from Will to fish a burner phone out of their duffle bag, then typed something into Google—“this was my favorite. Look!”

She pulled up an image, a painting of golden specks decking a muted dark green sky. The title was _Nocturne in Black and Gold —The Falling Rocket_ , by James Whistler.

“It’s pretty,” he admitted.

Riley was smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling, when she snuggled up next to him again. And a grin crept up his face in response. Her excitement was infectious. He wished he could make her smile like that more often.

The Eurostar passed by a farm with a wooden house painted red, the kind of idyllic setting Will had only read about in storybooks.

“Never thought I’d see something like this so close to Paris,” Will said.

“I didn’t either, the first time I came.” She yawned. He put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer. “Paris feels so different.”

“All I know is the Eiffel Tower. Was that your first stop?”

Riley nodded. “The three of us had a picnic on the lawn there on my first trip. It was pretty nice. A lot of people had the same idea. And someone’s puppy tried to steal my ham.”

Will’s laugh came out more like a snort. Blushing again, he checked to see Nomi and Amanita were still asleep, sighing in relief when Nomi stirred but didn’t wake.

“We should have a picnic sometimes. Add it to the list?” she asked.

He cringed. “Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why?”

“I’m allergic to grass.”

It was a wonder that, after “living like an old married couple on the run” (as Diego had so cleverly put it), they could still find little things that surprised them about each other. How could a person know so much about someone and so little at the same time?

“Like, deathly allergic?” Riley asked.

Will shuddered. “Just rashes, but it makes me wanna peel my skin off.”

“Sounds awful. Do you avoid it, then?”

“Not always. I used to play baseball. I had to wear those ridiculous socks that pulled up to my knees.” Diego had never let Will hear the end of that. And, judging by her widening smirk, neither would Riley.

“So no picnic,” Riley conceded, holding back a giggle. “What else should I know about you?”

Will’s smirk of mischief grew to match hers. “My favorite color.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He ran a hand through her hair. “Blue.”

*

Lila sat at the bar in Sebastian’s penthouse, gripping a cup of bourbon with a scowl, trying to take her mind off what she was about to do. She was sitting cross-legged on a tall stool, donning the black dress with the plunging neckline she knew Sebastian was partial to. He was going to come back at any moment now. Perhaps she should have waited until Maitake and Marcela had finished dining with Veronika, but it was too late to change her mind.

 _This is all Wolfgang’s fault,_ she tried to tell herself.

She was not a woman people usually said “no” to, not since the day she realized she could use the looks she’d inherited from her mother and make men cater to her every whim. All she had to do was stroke their massive egos. Sebastian Fuchs was no different.

But Wolfgang was. She seethed as she remembered the day he’d dismissed her proposal as a fantasy, blatantly declaring she was like everyone else. She’d known Wolfgang was hard to crack, but she always loved a challenge, believing there was no refusal a little persuasion couldn’t upturn. She hadn’t anticipated losing.

 _I didn’t lose,_ she reminded herself. _I let Wolfgang suffer for what he did. Like I promised I would._

Though Lila had lost Wolfgang in the end when his Cluster snatched him back, the same day BPO confiscated one of _her_ Cluster. She had to give Veronika some credit for finding one of the only ways to make her cave. Of course, she had hoped to make it only a temporary victory on the Russian’s part.

If only she could find Veronika’s weakness, too.

Lila recalled how Veronika had fumed when her Cluster had let Wolfgang get away. She knew the rage that came with a vendetta too well to dismiss Veronika’s outburst as a case of extreme irritation at her Cluster’s “incompetence”. As far as Lila’s sources could tell, Veronika hadn’t maintained prolonged contact with anyone except Bernard Kolovi, though Lila was confident that whatever family Veronika had would be deemed a hindrance, an obstacle in the road she had no doubt already cleared.

Veronika seemed more angry about losing Wolfgang than she did with her other experiments. Lila frowned, wondering what possible feud a woman like her could have against a person half her age. But Veronika would never disclose what made her blood boil. As far as Lila could tell, the woman was devoid of emotions. Truth be told, Lila sometimes wished she was just as cold. It would have made life much easier.

Veronika had once told Lila she reminded her of herself, and some part of Lila wanted to believe that was true. Though Lila had always known, with a mix of pity and relief, that she would never be like Veronika Because Lila was never alone. Veronika was.

 _And,_ Lila thought, pouring a drop of the clear poison she’d acquired into Sebastian’s glass, _that would make killing her much simpler._

When the elevator opened, Lila was ready to strike, putting the smile that didn’t reach her eyes back on her face. She ran a hand up her thigh before nodding her chin at the two glasses of bourbon.

Sebastian smiled but waved her off. “I should unpack,” he said, gesturing to his suitcases.

Pouting, Lila pretended to be disappointed. “You can do it later, can’t you, Sebastian?”

He sighed and walked closer to her, as expected. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing.” She smiled, raising one eyebrow, hoping to come across as a little naughty. “Just felt like celebrating.”

He relented and sat down on the stool next to her, gazing at the city from the window.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, pushing the glass toward him.

“It’s why I like this city.” He gestured to the buildings below. “All of this could be ours.”

 _Ours? Or yours?_ Lila held back a scoff and forced herself to nod.

Sebastian picked up the glass, and she tried not to stare at it. She tried not to anticipate the exact moment he’d hit the ground. Instead, she directed her gaze to the other bottles on the shelf, and at her own glass. He watched her, amused. “Something on your mind?”

He wouldn’t be her first kill. Marcela had taught Lila how to shoot years ago, and she’d left Naples when she was certain she could fend for herself to seek out opportunities in Berlin. In fact, Sebastian was one of her first contacts in this city.

Once upon a time, Sebastian had been a good friend. He had listened to Lila confide in him. He had lauded her courage while his friends had snuck non-so-furtive glances down Lila’s neckline. But she couldn’t find a trace of that friend anymore.

Still, she would have stayed with him for as long as she needed, for as long as her Cluster needed to find a way to break through BPO, then break away. She had stayed for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was she and her Cluster had set out to do.

But then Wolfgang had walked into Lila’s life, a gangly Felix in tow, and he had reminded her that she was still trapped. BPO hadn’t been in touch with her for nearly a year by that point, save for the contact who provided her with Blockers. But the more she thought about their long-lasting alliance, the faster she wanted her Cluster to be freed.

 _Her Cluster._ Lila reminded herself what she had to lose if she let Veronika get the upper hand. Shaking her head, she forced herself to smile. “Just tired,” she lied.

Sebastian readied himself to leave. “Should we do this another day?”

“No”—Lila leaned forward and put her hand over his, her fingers grazing the glass of amber poison he held. The bourbon under the dim lights, but Lila’s reflection was warped against the surface of the liquid. All she could make out was black swirls.

“I miss drinking with you,” she said. That, at least, was true. “Do you remember when we used to drink together?”

He smiled. “I remember going to _Luzia_ every night, hoping you’d show up.”

Lila tried not to roll her eyes. She had wanted to believe Sebastian wasn’t like other Sapien men, but a few months after their first meeting, he’d come inside her the moment they were both intoxicated and proved her wrong. The man who had cared for her? She no longer remembered what he looked like.

Before Lila could come up with another reason to stall the inevitable, she raised her glass, a little too quickly. The bourbon nearly sloshed out from one side.

“May I propose a toast?” she asked.

Sebastian raised his glass. “To what?”

Once upon a time, Sebastian had been a good friend. But that was before Lila’s rebirth. Before she realized she and all her Cluster could have everything and more.

“To freedom.”

When she tossed back her drink and watched Sebastian do the same, she felt her hands go cold and wondered if she would ever get used to the chill.

*

Ever since Jonas explained his involvement with Veracity, he had been asked to join the group in guard shift duties. He’d insisted he had come clean on everything, but with Jonas, how could they ever tell? Especially now that he was on Blockers 24/7 in case Whispers was planning to snoop around in his head.

Will found Jonas already waiting on the couch in the living room after he’d kissed Riley goodnight and come downstairs to join him in guard duty. The older man turned when Will sat down next to him and gave him a slight nod.

“Something on your mind, Will?”

Will sighed, giving up his attempt at a poker face. He asked the question that had been on his mind for days. “Why didn’t you tell us about Veracity?”

“You could say I was… otherwise preoccupied?”

Will glared. “You were a wanted terrorist!”

“The original plan was to find all of you and inform you of your new status as Sensates,” Jonas continued, chuckling at Will’s frustration. “But alas, that was not meant to be.”

“But you connected with me after. Why not then?”

“I wasn’t sure whether BPO would have been listening in. I couldn’t risk exposure.”

Will thought about their conversation on Independence Day. “Have you always been working with Veracity?”

Knowing Jonas, it was possible that the man had changed his allegiance several times like he did with his nationality.

Jonas’ answer confirmed Will’s suspicions. “Not always, no. I used to be on the other side of the war, once. Angelica used to believe BPO’s research was crucial to the Sensates’ development in modern society.”

“So what changed?”

“She learned the truth about Whispers.”

 _About time._ Will wasn’t much of an eye-roller, but he could see the appeal.

“Ever since Dr. El-Saadawi’s death,” Jonas continued, “BPO had been divided between people who wished to continue with her plans for the organization and people who believed it was best to reveal the existence of _Homo sensorium_ to the world.”

That, Will had already known. “But Whispers didn’t seem like he wanted exposure.”

“Well, he had always worked best alone. I don’t think anyone knew of his intentions at first. Not even Dr. Kolovi.”

“But why did Whispers think Sensate should be hunted down?”

“He wants the same thing anyone in a vulnerable position of power wants. Leverage. His ability to command an army of lobotomized soldiers is what keeps him alive.”

“He’s been doing that for years, though.”

“He has,” Jonas conceded.

“So when did Angelica stop working with him? When did she _start_ working with him?”

“Angel’s first Cluster was born shortly after 9-11. She joined a year after when Todd had disappeared after he volunteered for the brain operation.”

 _She was searching for his children,_ Will remembered Jonas say a few months back.

“We went to the cabin,” Will confessed. “We saw her use Raoul to destroy her research. Was he the reason she stopped working with Whispers?”

“Amongst other things, but yes.”

“What else?”

“Five years ago, Whispers’ used a lobotomized Sensate to assassinate a Cluster that had worked closely with El-Saadawi. He believed human sacrifices were not only worthy but necessary for the future of _Homo sensorium_ he hoped to build.”

 _Of course he did._ “Was that all?”

“And other Sensates, born or unborn, hunted for the sake of experimentation. Angelica believed the procedures should be entirely voluntary. But the truth was, many were forced into the circumstance without their control.”

“Like her other children.” _Like Sara Patrell._

Jonas paused, and Will observed him. His hands were clasped together when he spoke again, and his voice was strained, though he’d tried best to hide it. “Yes.”

Will frowned, wondering what Jonas hadn’t divulged. “Are they all dead?”

“What constitutes death? A physical form of decay? Or something that revolves around the drastic changes to our minds, our perceptions?”

And there was the cryptic philosophical rambling Will had expected. He knew Jonas was trying to divert his attention. Sometimes prisoners would do the same during an interrogation. Will gazed into Jonas’ eyes. “So, are they?”

“They are,” Jonas said without blinking.

Lito may have been the best liar in the Cluster, but Will had spent his career hunting down truths. And he knew people blinked less when they were lying. But Will also knew Jonas would only retreat further into his shell of riddles and games if he confronted him, so like Jonas, he tried for a diversion. “Have you ever regretted your decision?”

“In joining Veracity?” Jonas thought about it. “I don’t know what would have become of me had I not chosen this path. Perhaps you’d all already be dead. Or I would.”

“That’s fair, I guess.” Will pretended to be satisfied with the response.

“But as of now,” Jonas added. “I have found no reason to believe my life would have been better if I had simply gone into hiding.”

Will nodded. After his escapades in Iceland, he knew this feeling of “we’d given it our best shot” too well.

“Tell me, Will. If I had told you about Veracity at the beginning, would you have chosen differently? Would you have run? Or would you have fought?”

“I think you know the answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what was Will's favorite shade of blue? Riley Blue. I'm sorry, I had to. *Runs away.*
> 
> *And comes back and says*: Some good news for those of you who are curious about Veronika: next chapter will throw more answers at you, and then maybe raise even more questions. So brace yourselves!
> 
> *Runs away for real this time.*


	12. Thank God for gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfgang has a few things to add about Veronika, and Whispers’ past comes to light. Sort of.
> 
> “Sense? What, like quantum physics? Like a particle that can be here and not here? Or sense like gravity? A force that no one knows why exists. Only that if it didn’t exist… if there wasn’t this mysterious attraction… this pull between objects… then none of this would exist either.”  
> — From S1E7, “W. W. N. Double D”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? I sure hope so! Here I am, with the answers you've (hopefully) all been waiting for. If this makes you feel things, feel free to give me a holler in the comments section below. Or toss food items at me. I'm hungry.

**July 12, 2017**

Was he dreaming? Or was it a memory?

The images Will saw in his mind were hazy. It was still dark out. He was stirring in his bed, on the brink of waking up. Riley’s embrace from his back tightened as if she had sensed his distress. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself to fall back asleep. He heard voices in his head that didn’t belong to anyone he knew, and he felt warm. But he was in Paris, and he knew the temperature was on the chilly side that night.

_Then the blurry images slowly zoomed into focus, and he was surrounded by yellow. The sun hung low outside the window of what appeared to be a small wooden house. A kettle was burning on the stove. On the wall hung a large, fading photograph of two boys, one older than the other, with their arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear._

_There were three people seated around a dining table, and they appeared to be in deep discussion. Will’s presence in the memory had no form, he concluded as he looked down at his body and saw nothing. He was a phantom, and he felt like an invader, intruding on something private but not wanting to back away._

_“How many are like us?” a woman asked._

Will nearly jumped. He could have sworn he’d heard that voice before––but not in real life. Only in memories. He walked closer and examined the three people, identifying the wavy-haired Greek woman as the speaker right away. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes that reminded him of Riley during the early days of their connection. On her left was a man with unruly black hair and a dazzling smile that revealed the bronze glow at his cheeks.

And next to them was a pale, bespectacled man with mousy brown hair, wearing an enthusiastic smile Will could never picture on the older version. _Milton_.

They appeared to be in their early twenties.

Was he getting better at invading the Headhunter’s dream mind? Or was it a fake memory, made up by the man to lure him in? Either way, Will was determined to stay.

_In response to the woman’s question, young Milton pushed up his glasses. “I’m assuming there is a genetic predisposition involved, though it’s most likely a recessive gene. By my calculation, there should be tens of thousands of us. At the very least.”_

_“Yeah, I bet they’re hard to find.” The other man smirked, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “No one would go running around, telling people they have voices in their head. Heh. Imagine that.”_

_The woman (_ Leonora _, a voice in Will’s head whispered, a voice that sounded like Milton’s but so unlike his) nodded slowly. “Do all the people like us come in groups of three?”_

Will was awash with a sense of curiosity mixed with foreboding.

It was Whispers’ Cluster. _All dead,_ Angelica had said. _He still talks to them in his sleep._ Kala had told them her hypothesis that Blockers would start to wear off slightly earlier when one became desensitized to their effects, and the user would have to take a larger dose if they wanted to keep their minds isolated. A vicious cycle.

Looking at the memory now, Will couldn’t help but wonder whether the Headhunter slept on Blockers to shield his mind from invaders or himself.

_“I believe groups could be larger, or smaller, depending on how many were born at that moment in time, and how many are still alive at the time of the rebirth.” Milton tried to act casual, but Will could feel him beaming at the way his Cluster-mates gave him their full attention._

_“So many horrible things going on in this world.” Leonora’s lip trembled as she imagined all the ways their potential Cluster-mates could have perished before they were reborn. Her hand tugged at the sleeve of her dress to cover her forearm, which Will noticed was covered in purple bruises. “I wish we had the chance to know all of us.”_

_The messy-haired man (_ Ismael _, the voice said again, louder this time, as if a ghost was whispering in Will’s ear) leaned forward, beaming. “Why limit our interactions? What if we can find other groups? People who understand us.”_

_“Is this safe?” Milton asked._

_“Good point, Nora. But we can’t reach a conclusion if we keep everything hidden.”_

_“I don’t want to hide anymore.” Leonora looked down at her body, and Will cringed in sympathy, not wanting to imagine what other scars were hidden._

_Milton sounded resolute. “We’ll get you out.”_

_“But Xanthus would never—”_

_“Not if we have anything to say about it.” Ismael shook a raised fist, and Milton nodded, making Leonora laugh a little, breaking her frown._

_“But how should we go about the investigation?” Milton asked._

_Ismael perked up. “Actually—”_

_His Cluster-mates looked at him and waited for him to continue, but he chose that moment to do a dramatic pause, making Milton groan in mock-annoyance._

_“I heard—”Ismael drawled, puffing out his chest—“that there’s a scientist here in Egypt who studies mutations in the brain. She did an interview with the Daily News. I read it a few days ago. But she also said she travels a lot, so who knows if she’ll even be home?”_

_“What’s her name?” Milton asked. “Perhaps I’ve read one of her works.”_

_“Dr. Ruth El-Saadawi. I think she wrote a bunch of stuff on brain mutations, starting in the 60’s. Dunno if she’s studying our kind of brain, though.”_

_Milton frowned when he realized the name didn’t ring a bell. And he thought he was well-versed in the field of neuroscience. “I suppose we can try. Does she live far?”_

_“Cairo should only be a day’s journey by train. I can manage.”_

_Leonora put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure we can trust her?”_

_“You two can come with. Not physically but—”Ismael gestured at the two of them, invisible visitors in his living room—“you know what I mean.”_

_“What if it’s a trap?” Leonora asked._

_Ismael looked at Milton, who nodded. “Only one way to find out.”_

*

There was something heroic about returning to the station after he’d been shot.

Detective Mun knew he wasn’t gravely injured from some epic _Cops vs. Evil Corporate Gangster Chase_ he’d see on TV. But he had to admit, when his partner had called the hospital and informed him that the footage of the Gala had been erased, that Joong-Ki Bak was a bigger problem than he’d initially suspected.

And if meeting Joong-Ki’s sister had taught the detective anything, it was that the Baks had a propensity for worming their ways out of trouble with spars, car chases and—he couldn’t believe it when he first saw the news—garage explosions. So maybe this case wouldn’t be so different from an action movie after all.

In hindsight, it _was_ probably reckless of him to have rehearsed what authoritative, punchline-worthy statement he’d say to Joong-Ki during the arrest but not expect the man to pull a gun on him. Of course a man who’d hire killers to murder his own sister—purely speculation at this stage, he reminded himself—would be paranoid enough to carry a weapon everywhere.

But his failure to capture Joong-Ki the first time had only made him more determined. He always loved a challenge, and right now, Miss Bak’s case was the biggest one. Lieutenant Lee had offered to hand over his case to another detective and enroll him in witness protection, but he’d insisted on carrying out the investigation himself. Because how could he pass up the chance to serve justice on one of the most influential businesspeople in the nation?

(And hopefully get a second chance for a rematch with Sun Bak?)

The station had pulled up her file after she’d escaped from prison, and Detective Mun had had the opportunity to browse through lists of stellar academic achievements and diplomas. The more he looked, the more he realized he couldn’t link the persona in the official documents with the woman he’d fought at the graveyard.

But, he thought with a smirk, her old schools had also sent forth an impressive list of suspension records. Fighting in the schoolyard seemed to be a frequent occurrence back in her day. It wasn’t really a surprise, considering how prone Miss Bak seemed to be to solve her problems with her fists.

Though this time the problem seemed to be an intangible one.

An anonymous “good samaritan” had forwarded the recovered footage from the Bak Summer Gala to the Seoul Metropolitan Police. And, in hindsight, it did seem odd that Miss Bak, someone with no other family or friends, was able to escape prison at the exact minute their clearance system was overridden.

It was almost like a hacker had been looking out for her.

Perhaps Joong-Ki Bak wasn’t the only one with more questionable resources than the police could account for if her mysterious escape from the country were any indication. And if both of them had allies in the shadows, it would undoubtedly make it harder to capture Mr. Bak _and_ locate Miss Bak to collect her testimony. But if being a cop had taught Detective Mun anything, it was that even the most resourceful villains leave a trail.

He hoped he could find the people behind the scenes before they find him.

*

The Paris flat was as over-the-top romantic as Rajan’s villa in Positano, if not more.

It was a simple two-story building, and the outside walls were painted a light sunset yellow. Though it was in the middle of the city, the way Kala liked it, the building was tucked in a smaller alley away from the tourist-packed main streets. Outside, the windows frames were painted off-white, and underneath them were rectangular gardening pots holding pink and purple flowers in a species Wolfgang couldn’t name.

All of this gave the building a sort of story-like aesthetic that reminded Wolfgang of those watercolor postcards in the arts and crafts store he used to pass by on Leipziger Street on his way to the key shop.

Just the sort of place Kala would have liked to call home, he’d thought, when Kala had first wheeled him down the stone-paved way, pausing to wave at a friendly old man who was carrying a paper bag full of groceries. (He’d wanted to walk, but Kala and Felix had practically bound him to the wheelchair.)

The cozy interior of the flat would have been enjoyable had they not been on the run. It was a three-bedroom place with lots of wooden furniture that blended in well with the apple green walls, clearly not intended to hold a Cluster of eight and company. Though by this point sharing a sleeping space was the least of their concerns. After the nursing home, the mold-free couches and beds seemed like luxuries.

By night time that day, everyone had arrived in this new hideout, and the entire group sat around the living room discussing the next step, including Wolfgang, who, despite Kala’s protests, insisted on staying up late to see if he could offer some insight from his unfortunate first-hand experience.

Bug had called an hour ago to tell them that the BPO vehicle transfers were sporadic. He’d ventured it was a strategic move to throw him off. After all, he’d pointed out, Whispers should know better than to underestimate Nomi’s “crime-fightin’ Charlie’s Angel squad” after Riley and Will had slipped from him in Iceland.

Will settled into a couple’s armchair with Riley as everyone else took seats in the living room. “I saw the Chairman,” he told Wolfgang, bringing him up to speed. “Chair _woman_ , actually. Jonas said her name is Veronika Makarova.”

Wolfgang looked like he was going to be sick. He froze in his seat, and Felix opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, but decided against it. Kala inched closer to him and frowned, concerned.

“Is she”—Wolfgang paused to calm himself. Many people shared that name, after all—“is she connected with _Vor_?”

Amanita raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“With his fucking family? He knows all about gangsters,” Felix told her.

“Do you know anything else about her?” Nomi asked.

Wolfgang shook his head, but he was frowning. His hands were clasped tight on his lap, and he looked down, blue-eyed gaze boring a hole into his knuckles. His Blocker had worn off a few minutes ago, and everyone was hoping he could share whatever he might have learned about the Chairman in his days as a hostage, if anything. The Cluster felt a tension in their shared mind like unrelenting fingers threatening to pull the connections apart.

“Wolfgang,” Kala prompted, putting a hand on his back. “Did your family ever mention the name? Did they…”—she shut her eyes, hating herself for bringing up his family’s criminal past when it could upset him—“Did they… collaborate?”

He looked up, first at Kala, then at a tense-looking Will and Riley. “Did you get a memory of her?” his voice was tense.

Will nodded. Riley clutched his hand, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the memory he’d gathered from Whispers’ head. It came out blurry in their shared minds, and Riley closed her eyes too, hoping their energies could combine and make the image clearer. Eventually, the memory zoomed into focus.

Wolfgang got a glimpse of the Russian woman in her entirety: white blouse, blood red lips, steel blue eyes that looked like they could cut into his mind even as a Sapien. He felt a buzzing in his ears as he lost balance in his seat, and his back hit against the back cushions of the couch, but he was too busy gasping for air to notice the pain or Kala’s voice asking him what was wrong. He shut his eyes tight.

Did he roll off the couch? He thought he might have heard a _thud_ among all the buzzing in his ears, which grew louder until he was only conscious of the darkness and the noise that amplified every ragged breath. And had the floor always been so cold?

Then, as if his consciousness was hurled through a tunnel that traveled back in time, colors and sounds and smells and tastes began unwinding in his mind’s eye. Unbeknownst to him, the same images played through the heads of everyone in his Cluster.

No, not images. _Memories_.

_Wolfgang was four when he first found out he had an aunt, and it was not from some sort of warm and memorable family gathering. His aunt didn’t visit his home in Berlin, presents in tow, gushing over how big her nephew had grown._

_It had been a mistake that he knew about his mother’s half-sister at all._

_He remembered that day because it was one of the few days his father wasn’t in the house, one of the few days he didn’t hear plates shattering and his mother crying in the kitchen while he banged on the locked bedroom door to his own room, begging his father to let him out. His father had traveled back to Russia a day ago for some kind of business negotiation, and he and his mother were left alone._

_They were safe._

_Or so they had thought, until that night, a woman—the same woman from Will’s mind, who had barely aged well over the years—stormed into their living room, blonde curls ever so impeccable though she looked like she had run all the way here. As soon as she saw Wolfgang, her eyes had bored into his with such hatred, he felt his face burn._

_“Your husband,” the woman shouted, seething, “has the audacity to show up in Saint Petersburg?”_

_She had spoken in Russian, but he had understood. It was the language his mother spoke to him in when his father was out, their little secret. Because secrets keep people together._

_Instead of answering, his mother had turned to him. “Go to your room, Wolfgang, dear,” she said, calm and soft as ever, giving him a forced smile._

_“But—”he tried to protest. His mother shook her head, frowning in that I’ll-talk-to-you-later kind of way she always did when one of his father’s clients came storming in. They were only allowed to lock their front door at night time._

_He ran to his room and left a gap on his door so he could see the angry woman. Her nails were long and acrylic with the ends sharpened. In his imagination they grew into claws, sharper than the dagger brooch on the left collar of her black trench coat. And the dark red of her nails and lips reminded him of blood._

_From a distance, the woman almost looked like his mother. They mirrored each other in the way they held their ground, feet apart in a defensive stance. But everything about her was off. Her blue eyes made him shiver._

_“Did you really think you can keep hiding from me?” he heard her ask._

_“Please, Nika. Leave me be.”_

“Don’t. _Call me that.”_

_“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”_

_“You think an apology can fix everything?” Veronika scoffed. She stepped closer, glowering in a way that made Wolfgang take a sharp breath._

_“What more do you want?”_

_Veronika turned her head towards Wolfgang’s room, and he quickly hid behind the door, heart thumping in his little chest. “I want you,” she said these words slowly, “to suffer like I did.”_

_“I’m sorry she hurt you. You never told me. But you—”_

_Veronika sneered. “Your mother is a monster. She deserved what she got.”_

_“Haven’t there been enough deaths?” His mother’s voice trembled._

_“Have there? There are others like her.”_

_“Please, not this—”_

_Veronika pointed at the closed door behind which Wolfgang was still hiding, peeking one eye out, his ears perked, trying to take in every word. “He’s like_ her _, isn’t he?"_

_“What?”_

_“Don’t play dumb with me, Zorina. I know you had him tested.” The corners of her mouth quirked up for a second when his mother had tried, and failed, to hide her shock. “Your mother was a freak.” She spat out the last word. “And so is he.”_

_“Whatever you have against me, don’t let Wolfgang suffer for my mistakes.”_

_“Oh, sister,” Veronika laughed, her voice shrill, making the hair stand up on Wolfgang’s arms. “You think everything’s about you?”_

_His mother crossed her arms. “So what?” She raised her voice. “You’re going to hurt a child?”_

_“No, hardly. I’m not going to do anything.”_

_Before his mother could react, Veronika had reached over and lifted his mother’s shirt, revealing bruised ribs and fading scars. He heard her laugh._

_“Just as I thought,” she said, letting go of the shirt. Her heels clicked as she made her way out the door. She paused and turned back before she stepped out. “You can’t protect him forever,” she told her. “Sooner or later, he’ll have to face Anton alone.”_

*

“Look who’s back from sabbatical,” Kareem said when Milton came into the room.

Kareem was in a worse state than Milton remembered. His hair stuck to his forehead and the sides of his face with sweat, his lip was split with an angry dark red gash down the middle, and the bruise around his left eye only darkened since the last time Milton saw him. A metal basin filled with blood-stained towels was placed on one side of the recliner, and a machine to the left showed elevating heartbeats, even though Kareem tried to appear calm. But then, he wasn’t the only one looking worse for wear.

“Have you decided to come forward with the information on Veracity?” Milton tried to sound nonchalant. He preferred to keep his hands clean and have a Hazsuit carry out the physical aspects of an interrogation. But at the moment, as the man smirked with blood-stained teeth, he could see the appeal of punching the prisoner himself.

“What, and let you miss out on all the fun?”

“If you’ve been working against us for a long time, Mr. Asghar, you should have already gathered that we have a way of obtaining what we want. Your resistance is futile.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” His smirk only grew wider. “I was rather hoping I’d won.”

Milton stepped forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up from his chair so that their faces were a mere inch away. “I don’t like games”—he said through clenched teeth—“or attitudes”—their foreheads were touching now—“or people who think they can outsmart me.”

“Hmm.” Kareem raised a teasing eyebrow. “Do you not like me because I’m evasive? Or because you can’t break me?”

Sighing, the Headhunter grabbed a stool nearby and sat down next to the recliner. “I was offering you one last chance to come clean,” he said, shrugging. “But I suppose I’ll have to give you a little reminder.”

Ice blue eyes locked with brown, and four pupils dilated as Milton pushed their minds outside their physical bodies. They were plunging into the depths of a tunnel that had no end. Then the ground formed beneath their feet into wooden floorboards in different shades of brown, placed in a pattern familiar to the Egyptian.

_Kareem felt the mid-afternoon breeze carrying the tangy smell of the ocean, and, looking around, he found himself in the living room of his childhood home. There were three people seated around the dining table, but they were in deep discussion, not mindful that they were being watched._

_One of them he recognized as Milton. It was like looking a younger version of the Headhunter through a two-way mirror, a ghost from the now cold-blooded shell of a man who stood next to him, also invisible to the past version of himself._

_Kareem remembered that day. It was the last day he ever saw his brother._

_Ismael had reassured his Cluster-mates that he could embark on a journey to Cairo to find Ruth El-Saadawi, hoping she could explain the reason behind their connection, and he had never come back._

_Ismael had told Kareem that all he’d seen on the day of his rebirth was a scared old man—his Father, Kareem knew now—who had backed into a corner before he was shot by a masked murderer. If it weren’t for the series of strange events that happened the days after, he would have thought the vision was a nightmare, and nothing more. Back then the thing he craved most was an explanation._

_It had been years since Kareem had last seen his home, and the nostalgia was overwhelming, though the fact that he left on the same day as Ismael, who had never returned, gave him shivers. Still, Kareem found himself rooted to the place, bathing in the memory of a time before he had lost his brother. Before everything had gone south. It almost felt like time was frozen in a happier moment._

_But it wasn’t, because Kareem heard a familiar cold chuckle that certainly didn’t belong in this memory. Kareem tried to snap out of the trance. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation in his physical body, on the stone-hard recliner chair and the air-conditioned room that was too cold, on the metallic smell of his blood. And then he was back, and the machine that detected his heartbeats beeped faster._

But Milton had been back long before him, he knew as soon as he saw the sneer on the Headhunter’s face that towered over him. His Mother had told his Cluster that Sensates were most prone to mind invasion when they were immersed in a memory, out of touch with their physical bodies. Swearing, he shut his eyes and tried to focus on the canoe and the gush of the water and ashes, but found himself frozen in a space that could only be described as the in-between point before what he wanted to see and what Milton wanted.

There was the sound of ice crackling, and the ground shifted beneath his feet.

_The Headhunter stood next to him as they witnessed a bearded man in a fisherman’s hat on the docks of Venice board a boat, inside which two passengers, a young man and Kareem himself, stood up and bid the fisherman good day, setting down a backpack. Kareem shifted into the body inside his memory, and move back next to the leather sack. His hands, but not his, tore open the zipper, revealing bottles upon bottles of black capsules in clear bottles, and powders in plastic bags, and syringes…_

_The images around him shifted, and he was in the airport, pretending to wait for his luggage as he bumped against a middle-aged man and slapped a bottle of Blockers into his hands, but this time he also reached for the wallet inside the man’s jacket, opening it to reveal his ID. The momentum that came with rapid mind-reading was something Kareem was familiar with thanks to his training._

He used to find it pleasant, the quick shift in of color and sound and smell. But back then he was the one in control. He heard Milton chuckle next to him and felt his blood go cold.

_Now, wasn’t that easy?_

*

Everyone, even Jonas, and Mavis knew better than to ask Wolfgang questions. They sat around in silence as Wolfgang pulled himself up from the ground, ran off and shut himself in the room he shared with Kala, not bothering to use his cane. Lito had quietly filled Hernando and Dani in on what happened, and Nomi did the same with Amanita before everyone decided to go to bed and hope things would work out the next morning, save for Sun and Felix, who had volunteered to take the first guarding shift.

Kala looked at Felix, who nodded and gestured for her to follow Wolfgang alone. She hesitated when her hand touched the doorknob, not knowing what she’d find. Kala expected him to be withdrawn. Or crying? But Wolfgang had never cried in person since she had learned to shed his tears. Or maybe he was angry, and she dared not think what rage could drive him to do.

But then she heard a muffled sob, and the door flew open even though she didn’t remember turning the knob, or shutting the door closed, although she did hear a _click_. She sat next to Wolfgang on the bed. He didn’t acknowledge her presence but didn’t inch away when she moved closer. They sat in silence for a while, and the buzzing in Wolfgang’s head pulsed through the Psycellium. A bottle of Blockers sat on the nightstand, reminding her that his exposed mind was vulnerable to prying, but she decided to wait.

For once, she couldn’t soothe his pain with a memory of drizzle.

He turned, slowly, and their eyes met. But his pupils were unfocused, his gaze lost in a world beyond this one.

“I used to see my mother’s ghost,” his voice was gruff when he spoke again, and it was barely louder than a whisper. “He used to say I was delusional.”

She didn’t need to ask to know who _he_ was. It was common knowledge that Wolfgang had spent his life hiding things about himself thanks to that man. Still, it was a wonder how little she, and the rest of the Cluster, knew about Wolfgang’s past, though what memories they did gather snuck their ways into everyone’s nightmares.

“Was she like us?”

He shook his head, looking down at his lap. “She never got the chance.”

She realized he had never told them what happened to his mother, but she didn’t wish to pry until he was ready. He frowned as he picked up the thought. “She’s dead because of me,” he told her. “It was my fault. She moved to Berlin with _him_ when she found out she was pregnant. She hadn’t even told him yet—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Wolfgang, you can’t blame yourself for what”—

“ _She’s dead because of me!_ ” he repeated and kicked the nightstand with his foot. He hadn’t expected it to tip over, but it did, and one of the drawers fell out, landing right in front of them with a loud clatter. He felt Kala flinch. It was about time she saw him for who he was. Really, it was incredible someone like her had stayed with him for so long.

He turned to face her, fists clutched in anger directed at himself. “If I wasn’t—”

He had expected her to back away after he’d lost his temper, but her eyes bore into his with a sharpness he had seen only once before, back at the key shop. She still remembered what he’d said. _Maybe everything would be easier if I wasn’t—_

“ _Don’t_ ,” she said again, volume raised.

He gave a small startle before shaking his head, burying his face in his hands. The buzzing in his head hadn’t stopped since he’d first recalled his memory of Veronika. It ebbed and flowed with a numbness that had nothing to do with Blockers. Then the buzzing grew into indistinguishable voices, and when Kala tried to make out who the speakers were, she felt her head spin.

So she leaned into Wolfgang, embracing him from the side, hoping her body warmth could help the buzzing subside, but it only worked to intensify the emotion until she was struck with the pain that she’d come to associate with loss.

_She heard a kitchen timer go off. Then she wasn’t in her bedroom anymore, but in Wolfgang’s childhood home in Berlin, watching three men kick open the door and train their guns on a seven-year-old version of Wolfgang, who was on his way to the kitchen to help his mother prepare dinner. One of them he recognized as Balthazar, a Russian who did business with his father. He didn’t remember meeting the other two._

_His mother had dropped the plate she was holding, not even noticing that it had smashed into pieces on the floor. She stepped forward and stood in front of Wolfgang, blocking the pistols. “Leave him,” she demanded. “He has nothing to do with this.”_

_Wolfgang used to think gunshots were loud, not hard to miss. But when a pistol was pressed against someone’s skin, the sound of a bullet piercing through flesh was dull. He would have thought the gunshot blanks if his mother hadn’t collapsed to the ground, blood seeping out from the wounds on her midsection._

_“You can’t protect him forever,” Balthazar said before the three men stashed the gun away and marched out the door._

_Wolfgang knew he should have called for help, or maybe tried to go after them even though he stood no chance against guns. At school, they’d taught him the number to call in case of emergencies. But he was rooted to the spot as if he had been growing out of the wooden floor his whole life, and all he could hear was a buzzing in his head. The plate his mother had dropped was on the floor next to her, sprinkled with blood. His mother’s cheek, he realized as he kneeled, was paler than the white china._

_He was alone._

When the memory turned into darkness, and black faded into the present moment, he found himself back in the room he shared with Kala. She was petrified, sitting next to him, but as soon as he laid a careful hand on her shoulder, she trembled, her hair rubbing against the side of his shoulder. Then came the sobbing as she cried in his place. He wiped her cheek with his thumb, his mind blank.

For him, the tears had been long forgotten. All the emotions _he_ had left? It was anger—not at Veronika. At himself.

“She’s dead because of me,” he repeated, closing his eyes. “She stayed with _him_ because she wanted to hide me from _her_.” _And for what?_

“She loved you, Wolfgang.” He heard her sniffle before she held his hand, tracing the lines on his palms. “You know what it’s like, wanting to protect someone you love.”

He opened his eyes and took in the way she looked at him, teary-eyed, grief-stricken.

Wolfgang thought about his mother again, lying on the kitchen floor in her blood-stained robes. Everyone he had cared for had a tendency to leave too soon, he’d learned that day. But maybe, if no one cared for him anymore, people would stop getting hurt.

Kala shook her head. “I’m not leaving you,” she repeated again. “And if they want to take you away,”— _again,—“_ they’re going to have to go through me.”

And Kala was nothing if not determined. Wolfgang knew no amount of self-loathing would make her change her mind. But why did she believe he was worth protecting? Why did she still think he could rise above his past?

She leaned forward and put a hand behind the back of his head, pushing him forward. Her lips caught his with a fervor, an insatiable need to feel his presence, intensified by their connection. For a few seconds, he didn’t remember to gasp for air. Her grip on him tightened, sheltering his body like armor.

Before she gave him another dose of Blockers, she showed him the memory of the day at the temple when he had visited her as she prayed. She’d wondered, then, if his timely appearance was Ganesha’s way of giving her answers, but over the past year, she’d concluded he’d given her more than that.

He’d given her freedom.

“You are _not_ a monster, Wolfgang,” she whispered in his ear.

 _How do you know?_ Wolfgang asked.

His consciousness shifted out of the bedroom, plunging into darkness once again. A few seconds later he saw himself marching to what he believed would be his death at his uncle’s, with a single gun and a hope that, should he die, he would take everyone who had hurt Felix with him to do the world a favor.

 _Because monsters only care about themselves,_ Kala thought.

Wolfgang saw himself standing in front of his bleeding uncle, gun raised. But this was the first time he saw the memory through her eyes. And all she saw, when she had looked at him as the bullets were emptied, was the same helpless boy that had kneeled in front of his mother’s body, believing she would have lived if he had never been born. He had spent a lifetime keeping Felix from suffering the same fate.

The tears from her face dried, and he was the one sobbing now, head buried in her chest as she stroked his back. As Kala whispered soothing words in his ear and pulled him into bed, wrapping the blanket around his body like a shield, she made a promise to Wolfgang.

She promised she would help save him from himself.


	13. The choice that makes us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felix tells Wolfgang’s secret, and Jonas rambles some more.
> 
> “Who can say if it is we who make the choice, or the choice that makes us?”  
> — From S1E5, “Art is Like Religion”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, some more answers for you curious lot. Apologies for the slower-than-usual updates, but I've been busy packing. Gonna start college again real soon *groans*. So you might have to do a bit more waiting before chapter 14. But I can guarantee you lots of feels when it comes :) 
> 
> And by all means, keep up with the screaming. I am addicted to comments!

**July 13, 2017**

“Have they gathered anything from our… new recruits?” asked the Professor.

Veronika put the phone on loudspeaker and laid it flat on her desk. “Yes, Bernard. The Reciphorum was effective. It was fortunate our recruits belonged to different clusters. The Headhunter made good progress tracking down the rest.”

She imagined him smirking. “What about Wolfgang and his cluster?”

Reading from her new planner, she said, “Ajay’s sources believe they may be hiding out in the Paris flat Mr Rasal had purchased.”

“Should we start a search?”

“No, no,” she wrote a few words, her letter a calligraphic cursive, impeccable as always. “Let them come to us.” 

She would very much like to get her hands on Wolfgang, though she reminded herself to be patient. Her nephew was, after all, part of a bigger problem now. One false move could hinder any progress she’d made in her game plan.

“What is the plan?” the Professor asked.

“Capture one, lure out the rest. Same business as always. Karl is in charge of the specifics. But I can tell you it will take place at the Beijing facility.”

She heard him make a hum of approval. That facility, they both knew, had the newest security system installed. The most traps.

“We’ll draw out more of their allies that way, whoever they may be,” she continued, “perhaps even that traitor girl.”

He sighed from the other end of the line. “Have you got a plan for her?”

Veronika suspected there were more spies in their midst, and something larger than a group of vigilantes were at play, working to undermine her authority. Judging by the surveillance footages sent forth to her every night, it would appear quite a few sensates in BPO had been getting restless following the news of Yang’s betrayal. The cameras had broadcasted every wink, every hushed whisper. So far, three perpetrators had been caught.

“I plan to make an example of her,” was her answer.

“And Wolfgang?”

“Don’t worry, Bernard.” She let out a chuckle. “I’m a woman of my word.”

Silence from the other end. He was probably raising an eyebrow.

“You will get your cluster sample, as promised,” she reassured. “But first, Wolfgang and I have matter to discuss.”

It was a conversation they were meant to have a long time ago. From experience, she knew his abilities would complicate things, but it was nothing a dose of Blockers couldn’t fix. She didn’t have the same luxury when she dealt with her stepmother, one mind against many. Wolfgang should be an easier target. The corners of her lips quirked up for a second.

“Understood,” he said, after a pause. “And our current operation?”

“The São Paulo plan is ready to launch,” she said, adjusting the dagger pin on the collar of her trench coat. “Milton will be in touch.”

The Headhunters preferred to chase after their prey when the panic was fresh in the sensates’ minds, but she had always enjoyed striking at a moment of peace. And right now, she knew Wolfgang’s cluster was laying low, trying to figure out her next step. As if she had not already set the entire war in motion.

Hunt, or be hunted. That was what Veronika’s childhood had taught her. It had certainly served her well so far.

*

Dani liked having a drink on the balcony early in the morning. She was delighted when she found out she and Felix had that in common. 

“Didn’t think you were the type to rise with the dawn.” She plopped down on the seat next to him, overlooking the quaint little Parisian neighborhood, all pebbled streets and merry dog-walkers.

“Who do you think wakes Wolfgang up every morning?”

Taking a sip of her strawberry margarita, she asked, “How? Just sneak into his apartment?”

“Sometimes. But I prefer to creep up behind him and scare the shit out of him.”

She couldn’t help smiling a little. “You’ve been doing this a long time, huh?”

“He’d be lost without me.” He gave her a toothy grin.

“How’d you two meet?”

“Detention.” He paused, thinking. “I don’t even remember what the fuck I was in for. But he was there because he was fighting.”

_Of course he was._

“He was a shit fighter. That’s why he got caught,” Felix added.

Dani raised an eyebrow. Lito had told her the man in question had helped him beat Joaquín, and that fight was as epic as the action scenes from one of Lito’s movies.

Felix noticed her expression. “Yeah, we learned from the best. Conan was a legend.”

“You two get in a lot of fights?”

“Sure we do.” He leaned back in his chair, flexing his arm muscle. “Lots of damsels in this world in need of a daring rescue.”

 _Of course there are._  

She wanted to roll her eyes, but stopped when she realized it was the exact reaction Felix had hoped to get out of her. She had known the “damsel in distress” thing was a cover-up for something serious, most likely criminal, since the first time she talked to Felix. He probably knew she’d resort to teasing every time he started boasting about heroics. A perfect diversion. She must admit, she was impressed.

“Felix,” she said, and he stopped grinning and turned to her, sitting up straighter. “Look, I know what you two did for a living before -” she gestured to the living room, where Will and Riley were sitting on the couch with a view of the front door. A few others stirred in their sleeping bags strewn about the place - “and I’m not judging. Hell knows my family’s probably done way worse -”

She was surprised when he snorted. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

“The point is -” she stopped in the middle of her sentence - “wait, what do you mean?” 

 _Did it have something to do with last night?_ Last night Lito had told her and Hernando about Wolfgang’s memory. She could tell he knew a lot more about Wolfgang’s past than he’d told, if only because the German was in his head for over a year.

“You’re not the only one from a family of criminals.”

She’d gathered as much from the way Wolfgang reacted when he heard Veronika’s name. Really, _criminal_ would probably have been an understatement. And who was she to judge, when she had moved back to Mexico to get away from her family? But -

“Did he… Was he ever involved?”

“We were,” was his answer. “Not always by choice, but we were.”

“Why you?”

“Like I said, he’d be lost without me,” he tried to joke. But his smirk vanished as soon as he sighed. “The man who shoots people in mob fights? That’s not the Wolfie I know.” 

She nodded. “I get it. He’s your friend.”

“Yeah. And I’d rather he doesn’t fucking die.”

“So what’s he really like?”

She’d wondered about Wolfgang since they’d rescued him, but all she knew so far was that he didn’t talk much. Except to Felix. And Kala, who (she thought, suppressing a smirk) always seemed to be in his room.

“He’s terrible with small talk. Every time we go to a club, I have to do all the chatting. He just sits there -” Felix leaned forward and frowned, giving her a hardened gaze - “like that.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, everyone thinks he’s this tough guy who broods all the time. But -” he stopped, leaning back in his seat again, popping open another can of beer he’d placed on the floor next to the chair. “Gah, never mind, he’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“No -” she inched forward and snatched the beer from his hand, before raising the can high above his reach - “You already started. You can’t take it back now!”

His smirk grew wider. “I should _not_ have said that,” he continued to tease. “He made me swear not to tell anyone, Dani. Hell, he’ll kill me if I told you. It’s _so_ embarrassing -”

“ _Felix_ ,” she pleaded. “Tell me. I won’t say anything.”

He nodded, pretending to be solemn. “You better not. He’s tougher than he looks.”

“But you just said -”

“He brought a bazooka to a fight once.”

“Holy fucking -” she opened her mouth to shout out more profanities, before she realized what he was trying to do. She stopped and crossed her arms - “ _wait_. You were gonna tell me something embarrassing. Don’t change the topic. Shoot.”

He raised his hands up in surrender. “Alright. But you’re not gonna tell anyone. Not Lito, not Hernando -”

Smirking, she moved her chair closer. “Tell me.”

“Everyone thinks Wolfie’s this tough broody type of guy,” he said in a stage-whisper. “But really, he’s a fucking softie.”

“Huh. He doesn’t seem like it.” _Much_. She’d seen the way he looked at Kala, but she’d assumed that softness was reserved only for her. And Felix, on certain occasions.

“It’s true.” Felix glanced behind his back, all conspiratorial as he checked for eavesdroppers. “He used to feed stray cats.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

He nodded, the familiar grin creeping up his face again. “It’s true. Sometimes he just sits there and watches them. The cats in the alley behind his old house? They liked him. A lot. Even let him pet them once.”

She giggled. Wolfgang the cat whisperer. Who would have thought?

“But you wanna know my favorite thing about those cats?”

“What?”

“One time it was really cold, and he brought them into the house and hid them under his bed for the whole night. One of them snuck out and pissed on his father’s pillow.”

At her look of horror, he continued, still smirking, “And he slept on it for weeks.”

She laughed along, handing back the can of beer she’d confiscated from Felix. But she couldn’t help but wonder about Wolfgang’s relationship with his father. There was something familiar about that gleefulness Felix wore. She’d felt the same way after she’d slept with Joaquín’s best friend. 

Perhaps there was a reason Wolfgang never talked about his past, either.

“What?” Felix asked. Of course he’d noticed the change in her expression. She cursed herself inside her head.

“Oh, it’s just the whole Veronika thing yesterday. It’s sort of…” she started, but paused. Wolfgang probably already knew about her history from inside Lito’s head, but she knew he wouldn’t divulge her secrets. She wanted to trust Felix, if only because he seemed like a loyal friend. But once she had believed the same of Joaquín. Could she really trust her own judgement anymore?

“What is it?” he asked again.

“What I mean is,” she amended, “it just reminded me that my family isn’t the only one that’s completely messed up.”

He was frowning. She hoped it wasn’t because he’d noticed she was only telling part of the truth. “Well, it’s a fucked up world,” was his response.

She nodded, happy he was at least changing the topic. “Yeah, you can say that.”

He raised his can of beer, and Dani raised her unfinished glass of margarita. “ _But_. We’re gonna make it less fucked up after we go kick some Headhunter ass.”

“To a less fucked up world.”

They threw back the rest of their drinks in one long gulp.

*

With every seemingly impossible thing going on in her life at the same time, the last thing Kala expected to encounter in a flat purchased by Rajan was a call from the man in question.

“H-Hello?” she picked up the receiver. Before she’d heard the ring, she didn’t even realize there was a landline hanging on the living room wall.

“Kala,” he breathed, sounding relieved. “I called two days ago. You didn’t answer.”

She opened her mouth, and closed it again, one hand clawing at the wild curls on the back of her head as she furrowed her brows, trying to think of an explanation. Of course she should have expected Rajan to notice something off. But now was not a good time to come clean, she tried to convince herself. She didn’t even know how she could go about explaining this… whatever this situation was. Everything.

She shook the thought away. “Yes. I was - I’m still a little jet-lagged. Yes. Pretty sure I was asleep. In the room. Uhh, one of the rooms.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t tell if he was convinced. “I tried to call your cell phone yesterday, when you didn’t pick up the landline. But it was off.”

Kala didn’t swear much, but she could see the appeal. “I think -” she turned to Lito, who waved his wallet - “I mean, they said my number wasn’t working. I must have forgotten to pay the fees.” On second thought, she added, “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“I’m happy you’re safe. That is all I want to hear.”

Her cheeks grew hot from guilt. Rajan had most likely put himself in more danger by moving her abroad. Yet the biggest current distraction in her life was lying in the bedroom Rajan had most likely furnished for _them_ , and for the past few days she’d all but forgotten the ring on her finger.

“Kala? Are you still there?” 

“I’m worried about you, Rajan.” That, at least, was true. “Has Ajay made any more threats?”

“Uhh, no,” he said. _Too quick_ , thought Lito as he visited, appearing next to her. He frowned and shook his head. _He’s lying._

But she decided not to press in case he did the same with her. “That’s - that’s good,” she tried to sound like she believed him. “I’m happy you’re safe, too.”

“I missed you, Kala.” She pictured him smiling, maybe even scrolling through the pictures he had of her on his phone, and wanted to kick herself for keeping up with this lie. How could she face Rajan again and tell him she’d lied to him countless times before? How could she face Wolfgang?

Though by that point in the conversation, she had no choice but to continue lying. She tried to not let her voice shake when she replied, “Me too.”

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t entirely a lie. That she did miss something about her old life, a much simpler time when she knew nothing of the German ex-criminal who, despite her initial judgement, she now believed was a gift from Ganesha. Kala Dandekar was a proper daughter, and if someone had told her that one day she would fall in love with one man and get married with another, she would have found the idea abhorrent.

Then again, everyone in her cluster had begun to shed their old lives the moment they were reborn, slowly, like an old repainted wall chipping away. She supposed that in a way, this new version of Kala was always there, hidden underneath a mask of pleasantries and smiles, without which she’d have felt utterly vulnerable. Perhaps it’d be liberating to tell Rajan the truth. But she wouldn’t know until she did.

After they said their goodbyes and hung up, she sat down on the couch next to Lito and buried her face into a cushion. There were other people in the living room watching her, she knew, but she couldn’t go back to the room she shared with Wolfgang just yet. She felt Lito give her a side-hug, and whisper that it was okay, that without lies, life would be too hard.

Then they heard the balcony door open, and Mavis was making her way inside. But the younger woman paused upon seeing what was happening. “I’ll, uhh -” she started to back away, but her eyebrows were locked in a frown, and was her voice trembling? - “I’ll just… come back later.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kala straightened herself, and Lito did the same. “What is it?”

“Kareem. He said a Headhunter told him BPO found six Veracity spies.”

Kala heard Jonas swear from where he sat, as well as a couple others. “It would appear we have underestimated BPO this time,” said Jonas. 

“Fuck,” Felix muttered. “Well, now what?”

“It’d be helpful if we know what BPO’s working on. What we’re up against,” Nomi pointed out. Everyone turned to Jonas. 

He sighed. “I have told you what you wanted to know.”

“Yeah, but not everything,” said Will. Jonas gave a half-nod, half-shrug. He took that as a confirmation. “And maybe Wolfgang should be awake for this part,” he added.

Kala buried her face in her pillow again.

“I thought you’ve agreed to stop interrogating me?” Jonas raised an eyebrow.

“We said no more secrets,” said Amanita. “So honest answers would be good.”

“Let’s start with Angelica,” Will suggested. “Tell us about her work with Whispers.”

*

“What can you tell us about the neural graft?” Nomi asked the first question when everyone had gathered in the living room.

“Why do you want to know?”

Nomi crossed her arms, recalling what had triggered Jonas’ memories the last time she tried to get information out of him. But they had decided to keep him on Blockers 24/7 for the time being, so she would have to make do with just her words. “I just wonder why Angelica would have helped him with this, seeing as he’s using it for, well -”

Jonas sighed. “It was not her intention to assist Whispers in building an army, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s hard not to think that way,” said Amanita. “ _He_ certainly seems to think she had a big part to play in all this.”

Jonas was silent. Will leaned forward. “We agreed, no more secrets.”

“If you must know, her intention was to develop a procedure that could grant the wish of sensates who wished to be severed from their cluster.”

“Someone like Todd?” asked Riley.

A nod.

As much empathy as their newfound powers had given them, everyone in the cluster still wished Todd had never been reborn. By now they knew Mavis and the _sapiens_ among them shared the sentiment.

Jonas chuckled as he noticed the exchanged looks. “We wish for many things. But at the end of the day, what matters is how we deal with the inevitable.”

Kala frowned. “What? Todd becoming a sensate? Or Whispers taking advantage of Angelica’s research?”

He thought about it. “Could be both. Could be just one. But I can’t imagine Angelica doing anything different than what she’d done.”

“So she did research on the neural graft for Todd,” Nomi said his name with a disdain, complete with a scowl.

“Angelica would have done anything for her children,” Jonas said, smiling in the way he always did when he talked about her. “She wanted to make a procedure that terminates any sharing between a sensate and their cluster. That was her first step.”

“So when did Whispers come in?” Wolfgang spoke. He didn’t know Rajan had called just yet, but he would when his Blocker wore off. Kala dreaded that moment.

“She needed funding for her research, so she sought out BPO, believing they were still following Dr El-Saadawi’s footsteps. I believe he volunteered as a researcher in this project. He said he was interested in the idea of giving sensates more autonomy for safety reasons. So that _sapiens_ don’t feel threatened by their ability to share.”

“Right.” Mavis rolled her eyes.

“Dr Kolovi was another researcher involved in the project. He claimed he was fascinated with _Homo sensorium_ , as an anthropologist, and he wanted to study their dynamics, how they interacted with their own species.”

Felix whistled. “Shit like that’s always a cover-up for something sinister.”

“In one experiment, they included the use of an EEG cap. Most likely Kolovi’s idea… I’m no expert with brain technology, but I suppose when someone can visualize the changes in the brain, it makes it easier to command the sensate who had undergone the procedure. It was initially a voluntary procedure.”

“That’s how these things usually start off,” Amanita pointed out.

“In this particular case? I believe you’re right. When Angelica found out their plans to use this procedure for military purposes, she found a way to destroy her data.”

“But they already got what they needed,” said Nomi. 

Jonas nodded. “Is there anything else you want to ask?”

Lito raised an eyebrow. “Do you want us to?”

“We could just sit in silence until one of us speaks again,” Jonas suggested. “Though I suppose it would not be the most desirable option.”

That was fair enough, they supposed. They may as well go all out.

“There is one more thing,” said Sun. “Do you know what BPO could have used to locate the sensates in California?”

“I know all of you already have a few viable theories,” he answered, remembering hearing their discussion from a few days past. “I suspect Felix was not mistaken when he said it could have been drugs. There was something else Angelica worked on in her early days. The Reciphorum, she called it.”

“Oh!” Capheus jumped a little in her chair, and everyone else perked up too. Will had informed everyone of Veronika and Whispers’ conversation in the memory he’d found, and there was mention of a Reciphorum.

“Yes, with Will’s new finding, I have reason to believe Veronika had chosen to develop the drug for the purposes of hunting.”

“So what does it do? This… _Reciphorum_ ,” Hernando repeated with a frown, concentrating on the syllables, hoping he’d remember the next time round.

Jonas paused, wondering how to go about explaining. After a minute, he decided to ask, “Have you heard of The Echo?”

Their frowns deepened. Jonas chuckled.

“Have you ever wondered how the more advanced members of your species could tell who was a sensate the moment they made eye contact?”

Lito shrugged. “I always thought it was intuitive.”

“Yes and no. The longer a person stays a sensate, the more in tune with their abilities they get. And when they meet a new sensate, they detect a glimpse of a feeling inside their mind that does not belong to them. Angelica called it The Echo. An echo of each other’s emotions, reverberating between their connected minds.”

“Like how we feel what everyone feels inside our cluster?” asked Kala.

“The Echo is particularly strong within a cluster, yes. But you can learn to detect Echoes of sensates outside the cluster upon eye-contact. Though it is so brief that it’s easy to miss.”

Will nodded. That made sense. “Angelica studied this, then?”

“She did. She was amazed at the overwhelming empathy that came with her powers. She wanted to find the reason our brain responds differently to emotional signals from others, how it differed from emotions experienced by _sapiens_.”

“Is that why she made the Traceworks?” asked Nomi.

Jonas raised an eyebrow, impressed. “The Traceworks was developed by Dr Kolovi to let researchers witness how sensate connections happen from a third eye. But he needed Whispers for the project — only sensates could connect their minds to this machine and visualize the connections. Angelica’s research was instrumental to the Traceworks’ success, but she wasn’t around when the first prototype was tested.”

At their puzzled expressions, he explained, “She was working on various ecology projects at the time, so she traveled a lot. She didn’t know Dr Kolovi had tested his subjects using acute pain as the stimuli. When she found out, Whispers told her it was the most effective way.”

Will sighed. “Of course it was.”

Jonas nodded. “Had she known how far they were willing to go to see their projects come to a success, she would have restrained herself from giving away all her data. But Angelica always saw in the best in everyone.”

Everyone frowned. They couldn’t picture the younger versions of Kolovi and Whispers that they’d seen on old photographs as the trustworthy type.

“They talked of understanding among our species and theirs, of research for the betterment of _Homo sensorium_ , and she wanted to believe them. She wanted this for us. Words are the cruelest forms of deception,” said Jonas.

Nomi rolled her eyes. “So what about the drug?” she asked, deciding to bring them back to the topic. She and Kala had discussed the possibility of another mass-hunting of sensates with Will, and they agreed the only way they could track down the possible locations of the next hunt was by understanding how the drug worked.

“The Reciphorum works on the same principle as The Echo. It’s an excitatory drug, designed to bring the user into a state of euphoria. But it would appear BPO has now found a way to make the concentration larger in every dose, so the Reciphorum’s effect on a sensate’s brain could exceed the barrier created by a Blocker.”

“Bug’s keeping an eye on the IDs of the missing people,” said Amanita. “He said so far there’s no proof they’ve met each other before.”

Jonas nodded. “You have experienced pain within a cluster,” he said to the sensates among the group. “I believe you remember how it felt?”

The eight of them cringed, hard. Their most recent memory of sharing was when Wolfgang’s chest was zapped with electric paddles. It was a pain they had tried and failed to forget.

He continued, “Acute pain like that could be felt within a cluster. But euphoria was a sensation with an Echo far stronger than pain.”

Kala looked intrigued. “Why?”

“The type of pain the paddles produce depends on an external stimulant to maintain. Constant bursts of electricity. And you have witnessed the amount of damage, sometimes irreversible ones, that electricity could bring. But euphoria could be triggered and maintained for a longer period of time internally, without physical harm.”

“But why that drug?” asked Felix. “Why don’t they just get some cocaine?”

Kala turned to him. “It wouldn’t be good for the cardiovascular system in the long run. There’d be physical damage too.”

Jonas nodded. “That is one reason. Another is that the materials used in the Reciphorum was found in nature, in a plant that can send signals to every plant of the same species within a rather large proximity. She said they appeared to have their own clusters. _Polypliotic_ , like us. And when the chemicals extracted from these plants were used in a drug designed for sensates, it could produce a feeling of bliss that exceeded the limitations of… a sensate’s social circle, if you will.”

“So every sensate in the area felt this?”

“If they were experiencing the drug at the same time, yes. The euphoria produces a loud Echo in the Psycellium. It allows sensates to make connections with each other. An Empathetic Connection.”

Will frowned. “Even if they’ve never made eye-contact before?”

“That is correct. An Optical Connection would be the easiest way to connect. But there are certainly other ways.”

“Like what?” asked Wolfgang.

“So far only the Optical and Empathetic Connections are known. There have been reports, other incidents of unexplained sensate connections, but not enough data had been procured to explain how these connections differed.”

Kala smiled, feeling a little more cheerful. Finally, a project she could look forward to when this war was done.

“Whatever mistakes Angelica made, she spent the rest of her life trying to make up for,” said Jonas. “As for all of you, it would be in your best interests to learn from her past. Do not let your guard down.”

Will chuckled. “Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jonas nodded, approving the skepticism. “Perhaps one day your cluster could complete Angelica’s work,” he said, echoing Kala’s thought.

They added it to the list of things they planned to do when this mess was over.

*

Nancy Drew books made perfect bedtime stories.

When Nomi and Amanita first started living together, they’d established the little tradition of reading each other a chapter of their favorite series before bed. Who cared if they’d read Nancy Drew enough times that they could practically recite the stories word for word? A classic was a classic. _Their_ classic.

And Nomi carried their ritual around whenever she traveled, in digital form. The cluster tuned in when she read these stories sometimes, when they still lived apart. The stories were a soothing distraction. Her voice was a constant in their wildly unpredictable lives.

They hadn’t read to each other since they left for London. Hunting down Whispers had that effect on people. But Capheus had told them he missed hearing adventures, no matter how confusing they were. There was one perk about sharing a living space, she thought as she pulled out her tablet. She may as well get everyone into the series once and for all. 

Except for Jonas, who occupied one bedroom. And Will and Wolfgang, who was quarantined in the other two rooms in case their Blocker wore off and someone tried to snoop through their eyes. And, by extension, Riley and Kala. 

So that night Nomi started reading _The Secret of the Old Clock_ ** _*_**. The beginning to all beginnings. (Amanita had only given a slight humph of protest upon hearing they wouldn’t pick up where they left off.)

“ _Nancy Drew, an attractive girl of eighteen, was driving home along a country road in her new, dark-blue convertible. She had just delivered some legal papers for her father,_ ” she read.

Sun let out a dry chuckle upon hearing the word “legal”. Nomi raised an eyebrow.

“Go on, then,” said Sun. She certainly hoped whatever law firm Nancy’s father worked for wouldn’t come across the likes of Joon-Ki.

A few sentences later, there was another interruption. “ _From the lawn of a house just ahead of her a little girl about five years of age had darted into the roadway,_ ” she read. Lito gasped loud enough for everyone to hear as he made a show of putting a hand over his mouth.

Like pre-schoolers desperate to hear the rest of the story, he was shushed by everyone. Including Dani and Hernando. (“What? She’s gonna get hit,” was his defense.)

“ _…as the van sped away, the child lost her balance and toppled off the wall out of sight!_ ”

Lito shrieked. Instead of shushing him, Felix let out a cackle, sending everyone into a fit of giggles. Even Sun chuckled from her corner.

Nomi sighed like a school teacher who regretted becoming a teacher. “Really?” Amanita turned to Lito. “Can’t you, like, scream in your head?”

He shrugged. “It’s not the same.”

When Nomi got up to “ _the poor little girl has no close relatives except Edna and me,_ ” she could tell Lito was about to start making sniffling sounds.

Well, this was going to be fun.

Countless sentences and ten more interruptions from Lito later, the chapter was finally finished. Amanita had volunteered to read chapter two (because one chapter was never enough), but when Nomi turned to hand her the tablet, she discovered that her fiancée had burrowed herself inside their sleeping bag, gently snoring. One of her blue braids had slipped out to graze floor below. 

So with a smile (and an “aww” from Lito), she tucked the braid back inside, and slid down to join Amanita in a blissful, dreamless sleep.

*

These days when Will glimpsed memories from Whispers’ distant past, he was always seeing through what he would call a third eye. But when their Blockers happened to be wearing off at the same time in the past few months, he’d often find his consciousness entering Whispers’ mind, occupying his body. 

Sure, the lack of distance allowed him to hear Whispers’ thoughts more clearly, but other than the tactical advantages, Will wouldn’t call it a welcome change. It was too personal for his comfort. He was afraid the Headhunter’s lack of empathy would be contagious.

Riley had decided to let him sleep wearing an eye mask after Whispers had almost seen their second London hideout through his eyes. Kala had also allocated one of the bedrooms to them, and they made sure to draw the curtains completely shut. Not a foolproof safe guard, but it would at least buy him a few seconds to take another dose.

Though this time when Will felt his body move without his consent, he knew the man’s intention was not to pull off his eye mask. Instead, he simply sat up and leaned against the headboard, head tilted back slightly. Sounds were coming to focus inside their heads, and while he felt Riley stir beside him and utter some kind of question, her voice felt distant. Like a memory. 

He shuddered at the thought that Riley was part of Whispers’ memory too.

The darkness in front of his eyes faded to a fluorescent white Will had come to associate with a sense of dread. Will heard the whirring of a bone saw before he noticed the instrument was in _his_ hands. He was wearing a white coat, and his shoes were covered in some kind of plastic protection. There was no one in the room.

Except for the man lying on the surgery table, his face and body covered in a bloodstained white cloth with the top of his forehead peeking out. Will could make out black hair and bronze skin tinged with bruises that had faded to a deep asphalt.

Back in his bedroom in Paris, he gasped for air, and his heart dropped a beat.

The arms he possessed moved without his command, slowly, shaking. The free hand lifted the cloth off of the patient’s face. He saw Ismael, dried blood trickling down the corner of his purpled lips, eyes closed in eternal sleep. It was the first time he saw a victim through Whispers’ eyes.

The hand with the whirring bone saw made contact with the dead man’s forehead.

Will didn’t know whether he had screamed, only that he was launched out of the memory with an impact that knocked his back hard against the headboard with a loud thud. Riley was rubbing a hand behind his back. He yanked off his eye mask and buried his face in their blanket. She followed, leaning her head against his back.

Her voice was soft when she spoke a few minutes later, after he’d stopped shaking and he’d noticed his sweaty forehead staining the blanket. “What did you see?”

“He wanted me -” he gasped, and Riley made a soft shushing sound in his ear. He took a few deep breaths before turning to her, seething now - “He _wanted_ me to see this.” 

“See what?”

He tried to send forth the memory, but he gagged when he pictured Ismael’s corpse, at the mercy of the bone saw, and instead of worming his presence into Riley’s mind, he pushed himself away, nearly falling off the bed. She steadied him and pulled him down to lie on the pillow, stroking his head, her other hand reaching for the Blockers on the nightstand.

“Tell me, then,” she said.

“His cluster-mate,” his voice was shaking, “Kareem’s brother. He was -” he shook his head and shut his eyes with a whimper. His hand reached up to his forehead, and he made a motion with his finger, dragging it across.

“Oh, Will.” She put her hand over his eyes. Or tried to — but her hand was shaking almost as much as his. It could have been _them_. Almost was, once. 

He knew she wished she could shield him from his memories, but all he could see when he closed his eyes was the darkness fading into fluorescent white. So he drew away and opened his eyes again, nodding when she offered him the Blockers. She lifted his head, and he swallowed.

The shock dulled down somewhat when the Blocker kicked into effect, but he clutched the blanket tight with his fist and moved closer to face Riley. “I felt like I was there.”

She was leaning against the pillow propped behind her back, and she closed her hand around his fist, warm against his cold, clammy skin. “You’re _here_ ,” she reassured, both to him and to remind herself that their moment of danger had passed. For now.

He nodded, still sniffling. “He was his friend. I thought he was his friend. What made him -” he groaned, and she pressed her lips against his forehead.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What you saw, the memories of his cluster? That’s not the Whispers we know.”

He let the kiss linger for a few more seconds before he drew back. “What happened to him? What made him this way?”

She put her arm around his shoulder, pulling him up slightly so his head rested against her chest. “I don’t know, Will. I don’t know.”

He supposed it was another thing they had to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** A highly improper citation: so all the quotes in this section are from _The Secret of the Old Clock_ (Nancy Drew Book 1, of course). The 80th Anniversary Limited Edition, apparently. Got the first chapter as a sample from Kindle.


	14. The violence we do to ourselves (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which half the gang meets a new cluster, and the other half shares memories.
> 
> “The real violence, the violence I realized was unforgivable, is the violence that we do to ourselves, when we’re too afraid to be who we really are.”  
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn’t Let You Say Goodbye”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four things. 
> 
> 1) I am perfectly alive though overwhelmingly busy because I am starting my last year of college *groans*. My betas are equally busy, if not MORE so. And together we take forever to finish a chapter. Apologies!
> 
> 2) Thank you for all the encouraging comments on various platforms regarding my story thus far. They make my day, and whenever I feel like procrastinating, your readership keeps me going :)
> 
> 3) I am getting a bit more motivated to write again so hopefully I can update a bit quicker again. But I promise I will not let go of this story. The plot is thickening, and I am as excited to read the next bit as you are!
> 
> 4) This chapter was supposed to be one full chapter but it got WAY out of hand and I ended up with 9000 words of draft so I decided to make it a two-parter. It's not because I am trying to buy myself more time to write my next chapter at all. No. Totally not. Why would you think that XP

 

**July 14, 2017**

The Archipelago had found another safe house on the outskirts of Paris. It was in a neighborhood full of rich people’s vacation homes. Felix expected it to be fancy.

And it certainly was, if the rose garden that surrounded the area in front of the entrance was any indication. The house was painted a creme white, flowers and leaves decking the windowsills in a fashion similar to Kala’s flat in the center of the city. 

When Kala, Sun, Felix, and Wolfgang (who was begrudgingly walking with his cane) arrived in the morning, it was still chilly, but the windows were open, taking it all in. They stared at the place in awe, and Felix knew the rest of the group would react the same way when they make their ways over tomorrow.

A good location for a new hideout. Everyone agreed the Paris flat Rajan had purchased was only good for a temporary stay. After all, transactions between bank accounts, Nomi had pointed out, was one of the easiest things to track down. Bug could do it, and BPO certainly wouldn’t find that too much of a challenge.

Then the front door opened, and they saw a tall, lean man with an umber brown complexion. He grinned and extended his arms in welcome, showcasing his Hawaiian shirt in its entirety. The orange and green matched the colors weaved into his dreadlocks, which brushed against his shoulder. It was not until he was standing right in front of them that they noticed he also wore a black tie with a whimsical pattern.

“The heroes of the hour!” he said in a London accent, his voice booming. Then he extended his calloused hand, speckled with dried gold paint, which Felix shook while everyone else hung back, dazed at the enthusiastic welcome they had certainly not expected. “Leon Tucker, pleased to meet you.”

“Those are some awesome shoes,” was Felix’s reply as he glanced down at Leon’s feet.

Leon’s shoes were a mustard yellow, the exact shade he would have opted if he’d decided to buy a new pair. On habit he noted the fineness of the stitches along the seams, the firmness of the leather. _Handmade and Italian._ They looked expensive as fuck.

“Back at you, mate,” said Leon, examining Felix’s silver shoes in return.

Leon turned to smile at the rest of the crew, and it was then that Kala noticed she had not spoken a word. “I’m sorry,” she apologized for the four of them, “when they told us about this place, we were not expecting -”

To her surprise, Leon laughed. “Ahh, yes. My cluster runs this place. Always a fun surprise for first-time lodgers.”

“You do this often?” asked Sun.

“We -” he gestured to the magnificent house behind him, - “are the Airbnb for sensates in need, my friend. Who’d you think did all the fancy gardening?”

Next to Felix, Wolfgang raised an eyebrow.

“Right,” said Leon, noticing his apparent disbelief, “not me. This is all Gina and Rickie’s work. Sometimes Genevieve helps.”

“How many of you are there?” Wolfgang asked.

“There’s five of us. But three of them went out shoppin’. And Miki is - oh, hang on -” Leon made his way to the open window - “ _oi_!” he bellowed, “Miki, they’re here!”

The window opened further, and a woman gave them a wave in her oven mitts. Her dark brown eyes squinted into half-moons as she smiled, and deep dimples appeared in her tawny cheeks, adding a playful glow to her expression. One of her black braids slid past her shoulder, the dyed red tip brushing against the ledge. 

She beckoned for them to come in, and they were happy to oblige when they smelled marshmallow chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air. They found themselves in a vast doorway with photographs hanging from walls filled with abstract painted patterns. Below their feet, marbled floor tiles reflected the overhead lights. A wide wooden staircase stood on their right. Felix heard a child’s laugh.

“They’re here!” the boy cheered. And, instead of running down the stairs, he jumped on the railing and slid down, falling off halfway to roll off the rest of the steps. Felix cringed as the boy hit the marbled floor with a _thud_. 

“Damien!” Miki shrieked, rushing over to examine him.

The child — he couldn’t have been more than nine — lifted his head, grinning. He had sparse, dark freckles near his cheekbones. Spiky black hair stood up on his head like the prickly quills on a porcupine.

“M’alright!” he declared. “Did ya see that landing? I’m Damien! You’re late! Okay, test two!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Miki said, her voice stern, grabbing his hands as he tried to run back upstairs. She tapped the elbow that had smacked against the ground with her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t flinch. She muttered something about “another broken arm”. Damien stuck out his tongue before running into the kitchen.

Sighing, Miki turned to them and smiled in apology.

“Is he like us?” Sun asked.

“ _Homo sensorium_? Yeah. He’s been with us two years. His mom dropped him off here.”

“Oldest resident in Château Tucker, he is,” Leon interjected, and Miki rolled her eyes, punching him lightly in the arm. He groaned. “Ow, that actually hurt.”

It was Miki’s turn to grin. “Good.”

Turning to the four visitors, Leon pointed at Miki and shook his head. “Always bullies me, she does. Don’t let her size fool ya. She gets surprisingly punchy.”

Felix watched Sun suppress a smirk as she examined the round-faced woman whose height only reached her chin, standing barefoot on the cold marble floor, bulky muscles on her thighs exposed in their entirety underneath the oversized t-shirt she wore. Thought after witnessing Sun’s kickass fighting when the rescued Wolfie, he knew better than to judge a woman by her size.

“It’s only surprising because you always underestimate me,” Miki voice was light and cheery when she teased, and she sounded American. 

Leon shrugged. “You have a point there. I should carry around a shield or somethin’.”

Miki nodded, approving of his admission of defeat, before turning to the group, who were watching their squabble with amused expressions. “Now that that’s settled, want some breakfast?” she gestured to the kitchen, where the smell of cookies were getting more inviting by the second. 

They nodded. They hadn’t eaten since the crack of dawn, just before they’d made their ways here. By then they were too hungry and tired to wonder why the hosts would consider cookies to be a normal breakfast option. As if he could read their thoughts (and he probably could, had the three of them not been on Blockers), Leon remarked, “It’s cookies for breakfast whenever Miki’s in charge.”

Miki nodded, eyeing the half-empty tray of soft-baked cookies Damien was wolfing down before bringing the other batches out of the oven for the guests. “I’d say this goes well with coffee,” she told them. And, at Damien perked up in his chair, “ _No_. No coffee for you.”

“Aww come on, that was _one time_ -”

*

The Paris safe house was even bigger on the inside.

Kala counted eleven bedrooms as they were led by Leon and Miki on a tour through the three floors of the mansion. The floor in the hallways, living rooms and (to her delight) basement lab were all paved with fine marble, and the bedrooms were lined with mahogany tiles. The creamy white color of the paint remained on a few walls, though the others were covered with oil and acrylic paint. 

She wouldn’t call them graffiti, exactly, though the style was mostly abstract, the shapes too foreign for her to try and interpret. Ajay was right, she thought, cringing at the thought of the man that later turned out to be yet another criminal in her life. Perhaps not understanding a work of art made it more appealing. The bright and colorful patterns in the works added vibrance to a house that had once no doubt hosted the most wanted sensate fugitives. She knew Hernando would swoon once he laid his eyes on them.

“Did you do all this?” she asked Leon. Wolfgang, who was walking beside her, an arm around her shoulder, also glanced around in awe. 

“Sure did,” he answered, smiling in a smug way. And, as Miki punched him in the arm again, he added, “she helped, too.”

“Helped?” Miki crossed her arms. “Please, you wouldn’t have been inspired without me.”

Leon pulled her into a side-hug, conceding. “She has chromesthesia,” he explained to the guests as Miki beamed. “Which, I suppose, means we all have. You should’ve seen us back when we first got the place. All the music and colors… Bloody exhilarating, it was.”

“How long have you lived here?” asked Sun.

“How long… Blimey, ’s been two years, hasn’t it?” he turned to Miki, who thought about it before nodding.

Felix looked around the well-furnished hall and let out a whistle. 

Leon laughed, “This is all thanks to my granddad. He was an artist, and a bloody rich one at that. Left me loads ‘o money when he passed away. Good man.”

When he opened the door to the next bedroom, Kala let out a squeal. Laughing, Wolfgang turned to the source.

On the wall of the bedroom was a lilac colored silhouette of a baby elephant with too-large ears standing on a cloud of by pink and purple swirls. It was surrounded by midnight blue decked with silver dots. Other colorful clouds decked the night sky, some of them a little hazy, as if they were drifting into a mist. On the other end of the room, near the door, was a black silhouette of a larger elephant.

“Did that when we had a Disney marathon,” Leon explained. “You two can take this room, if you want,” he added, winking at Wolfgang when he opened his mouth to ask how he knew. “I can know what sensate couples look like. You should see Gina and Henrik when they get back. Those two are insufferable.”

Miki giggled. As Leon waltzed back into the hallway to lead them to the next bedroom, she put a hand on Wolfgang’s shoulder, holding him and Kala back. “You should rest,” she said, when Leon, Sun and Felix were out of earshot. “You’re looking a bit pale. Mavis told me you were electrocuted?”

Wolfgang shrugged. Miki sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him over until he conceded and sat on the bed. “I’ve got something for that,” said Miki, standing up. “Wait here.”

She went into the en-suite bathroom that they hadn’t noticed was there, and came back with a small round jar. There was some kind of white paste inside.

“Lie down, _bhediya_ ,” Kala said gently, and Wolfgang obliged. Miki gestured to his shirt. He reached to take it off, but it was hard when he was lying down, and the angle of his arm made his chest ache a little. He bit back a groan, and Kala sat on the bed and helped him pull off his gray cotton top.

The bruises from the paddles had mostly faded, save for a few contusions that looked a little green. Some of his veins were bulging slightly above his muscles. 

“Impressive recovery,” Miki noted, and Wolfgang suppressed the urge to groan again. Kala knew, from what memories he shared, that he was remembering the times a doctor would remark on his skin’s amazing ability to patch itself quickly after every cut. “That’s good news,” continued the woman, who noted the change in his expression but thankfully decided not to pry. “This would have stung a bit if his bruises were still purple.”

Miki nudged Kala in the elbow with the hand that held the jar of salve, raising an eyebrow as her other hand twisted the cap open. It smelled like an herbal concoction, but the smell was different from the large collection of herbs Kala was used to seeing in her father’s kitchen. Kala furrowed her brows, trying to decipher the ingredients. *****

“Did you make this?” she asked.

Miki nodded. “I like to experiment with herbal medicine. It’s an Iñupiat thing.”

“Like a tradition?”

“Yeah. My parents aren’t really into it. But my grandma taught me.”

“Are all the ingredients found in France?”

“Some are. But I also included some herbs native to Alaska, where I’m from.”

“Are they perishable?” 

Expired drugs are a big problem in pharmaceutical companies, she knew all too well, shaking the thought of her husband away with a pang of guilt. On the bed, Wolfgang frowned at her, and she shook her head, mouthing “it’s nothing”. It was a topic that they both knew they had to deal with eventually. But maybe later. Neither of them knew where to even start.

“They won’t expire for another year, I think.” Miki said, voice growing quieter. “I’m hoping it’s enough to last until - well, you know.”

Kala nodded, frowning.

“Anyway -” Miki said, standing up from where she sat on the bed, handing the open jar to Kala - “I’ll leave you to it.”

Upon hearing that, Wolfgang’s frown turned into a smirk, making Kala’s cheeks warm up. She hoped to Ganesha she wasn’t visibly blushing. 

Miki mirrored his smirk. “Unless you want me to -”

Kala snatched the jar from Miki’s hands before she even finished the sentence, making Wolfgang chuckle. “Sorry,” she apologized, and Miki laughed, raising a teasing eyebrow. “I got it. Thank you.”

“Alright,” the Inuk sing-songed, walking out. “I’ll leave you to it.”

When Kala dipped her fingers into the jar of salve, she noted it was minty. Her hand felt a little cold when the breeze from the open window drifted by. Slowly, she traced the bulging veins on Wolfgang’s chest, her fingers circling around the fading scars, gliding across the green bruises. He hummed, content. She looked up to see he had closed his eyes.

“Good?”

He smiled, dimples appearing in his cheeks again. “Yes, doctor.”

She laughed at that, before dipping her head down to kiss the places that she knew still hurt, one by one. The salve tasted bitter in her mouth, but his growl prompted her to kiss him some more.

“Better?”

A nod, before his smile widened. The small voice at the back of her mind was telling her the same lips had kissed another man barely a month earlier, and all the guilt she had suppressed came flooding back. It was lucky Wolfgang was on Blockers. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, eyes still closed.

Kala was not as selfless as she once believed. She had suspected this for a long time, now.

“Just thinking,” she lied, telling herself it would be the last time she ever did.

Nodding, Wolfgang’s hand reached up to his face, and he grazed a calloused finger against his lips. He let out a content hum as his lip caught hers with a fervor, heat crashing against the cold. She savored this moment, in the hopes that it would give her another reason to do the right thing in the end. Because after being reunited with Wolfgang, she knew there was no way she could let him go again. No matter the consequences.

Someday soon, she would tell Rajan the truth and set herself free. 

*

“I think it’s time I teach you to shield your mind against sensate enemies, in light of the recent… developments at BPO,” said Jonas.

Everyone, save for the four that ventured ahead to the next safe house, gathered around the living room of Kala’s Paris flat. Sun and Kala visited to inform them that all are well at the new hideout, and the rest of the group would travel there the next day.

Will frowned. “The Blockers seem to be wearing off quicker for Riley and me. Whispers keeps trying to break in, I can feel it.”

“Exactly,” Mavis chipped in. “The in-between times are the worst. You know, when it’s still all buzzing up here but you can _sort of_ feel someone else’s mind creeping in before you take another dose?” she gestured wildly around her head. “Yeah. Been there.”

“The transition periods are when we are most susceptible to invasions,” Jonas added. “The disorientation lowers your inhibition against Headhunters. It is usually then that they will choose to slip into your mind through a hint of your emotions.”

“Can’t we just push back into their memories?” asked Will. 

Jonas nodded. “That is one possible way. I believe you have become familiar with this method of coping? I will say, it is also the more extreme method.”

Will cringed, knowing too well the price he had to pay to barricade his mind. He tried to push the image of Whispers performing a lobotomy on his cluster-mate out of his memory.

Seeing his reaction, Amanita asked, “Is there a better way? One where they wouldn’t get creepy recurring nightmares as a side-effect?”

“Yes! I am glad you asked,” Mavis turned to Jonas, rubbing her hands together. “This should be fun -” then, turning to the group with a smirk - “you sure they’re ready for this?”

“Ready for _what_?” asked Nomi.

“A memory loop,” Jonas said, before Mavis could interject again. “Two related memories, connected by an element that draws them together.”

Hernando frowned, looking back and forth between Jonas and a confused Lito. “Element?”

“Think about a tangible object, or sequence of action, that was present both times. When you know what memories you want to use, find that object or motif. Something symbolic enough to evoke a strong and identifiable emotion.”

“Does it… Does it have to be a happy memory?” Lito’s voice was quiet, and he looked down, gazing at nothing in particular.

“The most effective emotions to use in the loop are ones where there is growth behind the positive emotion,” Jonas explained. “Something meaningful you have learned over the years that makes the second experience so similar, and yet so different, than the first.”

“I’d say hindsight helps,” Mavis added as she looked around and took in their blank stares. “Like, you get that second experience a few years, maybe even a few decades later. And then you remember the first time and go _woah_ , here’s something I missed. And it makes the memory that much deeper.”

Will frowned. “Wouldn’t that make things worse? Letting a Headhunter see something so personal?”

Jonas nodded. “Nothing can block out a sensate’s mind presence in its entirety except Blockers. The memory loop and reverse invasion tactics should not be used in place of Blockers. They are your last resorts, should you find yourself in an interrogation with a Headhunter. These are the most effective ways to prevent another sensate from seeing the memory you are trying to hide.”

“Would this work under the effects of the Traceworks?” Kala asked.

“I believe so. If the focus is strong enough, if you immerse yourself in the memories and concentrate on the emotions you experienced at that moment, it can provide some relief to the pain from electrocution. Enough to dull the Echo of the emotion behind the memory you were trying to hide, making it faint, harder for the Headhunter to identify.”

Sun frowned. “What if you don’t know which memories to choose.”

“For most people, the two memories would take some time to find,” Jonas said. “It’s a slow process. But certainly something to think about as you go about your next few days.”

“I -” Lito started, then paused, and exchanged a nod with Dani and Hernando - “I think I know. I have it.”

“If anyone else thinks they have found their loop, this would be a good time to start. This skill is easiest to grasp when you’re practicing with someone you trust.”

From next to Amanita, Nomi leaned forward. “I’m ready, too.”

“Before you start,” Jonas added, “think of a third memory that you will try to hide from each other. Protect it.”

*

The two of them sat back to back, a bedroom wall separating them from each other. The doors were closed to allow complete privacy, and they knew everyone was chatting in the living room, doing their best to keep their volume down. Jonas had said it was crucial that they learn to do this when it was quiet. In an interrogation room, the loudest noise would be the beeping of the Traceworks machine.

Nomi hugged her legs closer to her for comfort, leaning her head on top of her knees. Behind her, Lito’s presence buzzed in her mind, inviting her consciousness to drift through the wall and see what he saw. By then it had become second nature to see through the same pair of eyes, and their minds navigated to fit around each other’s. She could make out the lemon yellow walls of the room, the sunlight pouring through the open window.

 _You should probably block me out now,_ she reminded Lito.

He chuckled. _You’re an invader now. Right._

Lito squinted to focus on the beams of light on the wooden floor, taking Nomi’s gaze away from what was outside the window. _Warmth_ , she heard him think. _Summer. It was summer._

There was the sound of footsteps. It came from behind her, accompanied by the sound of a young girl’s laughter. Lito was running in a pair of oversized sandals, and Nomi was feeling the strain of his leg muscles. Dust crept in between his toes, making his skin itch, but all he wanted to do was keep running. 

There was a narrow alley in front of him with many open doors and windows, and Lito ran past. As Nomi slipped into his body, she could smell the aroma of chili peppers wafting through the air, hear the sound of oil and meat sizzling against skillets.

 _Come on, Lito, there’s a town to save!,_ shouted the girl as she ran past him, a blur of black and coral pink. Strands of hair were slipping out of the braid down her back that whipped left and right as she jumped over a hurdle of empty paper boxes lying on the street, the loosening bowtie at the end threatening to fall off with every leap.

Behind them, Nomi could make out the sound of a woman calling out from one of the open windows. _Dios mío, María, get back here, you are ruining your best dress!_

Nomi giggled, recalling María’s ever-presence in memories of Lito’s childhood. She had seen glimpses of her in Lito’s mind over the past year. But this memory felt different.

María stuck out her tongue and grabbed Lito’s hand. He ran alongside her until they reached the main road, where tourists and locals alike bustled along the roads looking for a restaurant to sit down and have a nice meal.

Lito pretended to check a watch on his wrist. _Oh no! The bad guys are going to blow up the town in three minutes! We must hurry, Agent María!_

 _Copy that, Agent Lito._ She looked around, frowning as she mumbled, _no, not that one, not that one…_ And then, _There!_ she pointed at the restaurant with a crudely painted shopfront. A one story building with a flat roof, he noted. Fairly easy to climb.

 _Aha!_ he exclaimed. _A very clever disguise for their base of operation. But not clever enough for us._

She smirked, one hand reaching into her pocket to pull out an imaginary gun, which she held firmly in her right hand. _Shall we?_

Nodding, he ran with her until they reached the painted red-and-yellow sign. _The secret entrance is on that side,_ he whispered, glancing at the area where the dumpsters were. They rushed over and started climbing, ignoring the stench.

 _María’s mother must have been furious,_ Nomi thought.

Lito chuckled, and everyone in the memory froze, pausing like a video on playback. _She was._

Too late, the scene in front of him vanished, and he was looking at Hernando in the tiny bathroom at the Diego Rivera Museum, their bodies crashing against each other as his slippery hands grappled at the cotton shirt that had been plastered to his lover’s body with sweat. Then he felt Nomi inhabit his body in the memory, looking up at the worn gray-blue paint on the ceiling, down at the gray tiles beneath his feet.

He let out a groan. _Well played, Nomi._

She sent forth an emotion that Lito could only describe as smugness.

He latched on to that, and Nomi was launched back into the memory loop again, fast-forwarding until Lito and María had already climbed on the roof. The two friends fought back to back wearing identical smirks, kicking at imaginary villains left and right, pointing their hand guns at them, pretending to shoot.

 _Whoo! We saved the town!_ said María after a few minutes, tucking away her invisible weapons.

Then Lito around to face her. Nomi laughed upon a closer inspection of Lito’s friend, hair matted with sweat and dirt with loose strands flying about, a gray handprint smeared across her right cheek. Lito chuckled, too, though he knew better than to let his focus slip this time round. He fixated his gaze on María, who was grinning with a missing front tooth, one strap of her dress slipping off her shoulder. 

María drew herself closer to Lito, putting her hands on his shoulder, and looked at him, mischievous dark brown eyes widening.

 _What are you doing?_ he asked, laughing.

She shushed him. _Don’t ruin the moment, Lito._

_What moment?_

An exasperated sigh. _This is where we kiss._

 _Uh -_ he took a step back, frowning. _But why?_

She pulled him closer again. _You know, like in the movies! The boy and the girl realize they’re perfect for each other. And they kiss._

 _But -_  

Lito paused, wondering why he didn’t feel the same way. He had seen the ways the other boys in his neighborhood grinned and bragged about the girls they wooed, and he had prepared himself to feel the same. In the movies, the men would bring the ladies roses. And wear cologne, and a nice suit. When he asked if he could dress the same way, papá had said he wasn’t old enough. 

That must have been it. The heroes in the movies were all grown-ups. Maybe when he was older, he would want to kiss a girl. He would.

 _Come on, Lito, I’m waiting,_ María said again, tugging at his shirt.

 _I, uhh -_ he looked around, trying to think of a way out of this. _But we’re all sweaty._

_It’s like that in every movie, silly. It’s more romantic that way._

He closed his eyes. Good boys tell the truth, his mamá had said. But being honest was harder than he thought. What would María think, if he had told her he didn’t want to kiss her? Would she still want to be friends?

 _Mamá said that I -_ he closed his eyes, uttering a silent apology to mamá - _I am not to kiss until I am older._

She frowned. _How old?_

In his mind, he breathed a sigh of relief. _I have to wait until I marry._

 _Aww_ , she whined, but conceded, letting go of Lito. _But that’s gonna take years._

 _Sorry, María_ , he mumbled, averting her eyes.

She shrugged, before she looked down at her muddy outfit and started giggling, ever the optimist. _Well, I do need time to find a good wedding dress. Because this one is definitely wrecked._

He laughed along as they climbed down and raced each other home, and pretended to forget about his lie, hoping it was a one-time thing. 

When Nomi heard the thumping of footsteps again, she found herself running down a street with a green carpet, cameras and microphones and too-bright lights looming overhead. She — no, _Lito_ — was wearing all black, blending in with the darkness around him, and a woman dressed in the same camouflage was running beside him. They climbed up the fire escape ladders on the side of the six-story building and brought themselves into the thick of the epic battle on the rooftop, fighting back-to-back, kicking and shooting prop guns at the masked villains. 

It was his favorite movie to shoot, because it was the only one where he fought alongside the girl instead of saving her. María had always insisted girls could be heroes, too. Even as she had grown older, as she had learned to take better care of her dresses, to talk and act “like a proper lady”, the impish glint in her eyes never vanished. 

They remained friends for years until he moved to Mexico City to kickstart his movie career. Whenever he came home, his aunties would tell him to consider asking María’s hand in marriage. You’re a perfect match, they’d said. 

But he had stopped himself before he had a chance to knock on her door, run away from the village where he grew up and never looked back. He had already accepted that it was not a matter of age that stopped him from kissing her before, but a matter of the heart. And he couldn’t lie to his best friend a second time.

*

His consciousness had slipped back to the Paris flat, and it was only when Nomi visited him, patting him on the shoulder, that he opened his eyes.

“Hey. It was the right thing to do,” she reassured.

He nodded. “I know.” Then, smiling, “I had my first date with Hernando in the Diego Rivera Museum a month after.”

She smiled back.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped in front of the door. If I had proposed to her that day.”

“You wouldn’t have met Hernando.”

“Now I can’t imagine life without him.”

“What about her?” she asked. “Have you ever…”

“I couldn’t.” He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I would even say. What could I say? That I lied to her?”

“I think you should find her when this is over.”

“I’m scared, Nomi,” he confessed. “She was my best friend. I don’t know if I’ll be able to move past it if -” he choked back a sob - “it’s too hard.” 

She put her arm around him. “Whatever you choose, you won’t have to do it alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** My lovely beta LettersfromLaika has kindly educated me on medicinal plants. (I am lazy so I will quote her directly.) If you're wondering what could have been in Miki's magical ointment, these are the most likely candidates:
> 
> Labrador Tea: for aches and the like. Also drunk for funsies. A wee bit toxic in large quantities. 
> 
> Seal Fat: Pretty much the Inuit cure-all - also a nice readily available fat. You can boil it, eat it and use it as an ointment.
> 
> Pine tree gum from the inner soft bit of bark:  (if not too far north i.e. no trees) - prevents infections 
> 
> And for those of you who wish to learn more, [this website](http://www.avataq.qc.ca/en/Nunavimmiuts/Traditional-Medicine) would come in handy :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> So yeah. A sensate Airbnb run by a cluster-family of OCs. Don’t worry about making a character list (unless you REALLY want to, in which case I’d love to see it). This cluster’s one of the last character-dumps in this story. They’ll be with us till the end :)
> 
> AAAAND a special shoutout to Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr) for being my sensitivity reader, you are the best *hugs*. They wrote so many fics for this fandom, and there’s something for everyone! Go check out their work! 
> 
> P.S. Interesting factoid: according to various sources on the internet, Miki is an Inuit name which means “small”, and I think that’s adorable <3
> 
> P.P.S. A trivia question, for those of you who are into this kind of thing: which character (major or minor, canon or OC) had been shown to use the memory loop before in this story? And in which chapter?


	15. The violence we do to ourselves (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some more memories are shared, and Lila finds herself in a new predicament.
> 
> “The real violence, the violence I realized was unforgivable, is the violence that we do to ourselves, when we’re too afraid to be who we really are.”  
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn’t Let You Say Goodbye”
> 
> **TW for depictions of bullying and transphobic/homophobic slur.**

 

**July 15, 2017 (cont’d)**

Nomi had always loved dolls, and her father may not have forgiven her for that, but her sister had been happy to share. Teagan thought it was fun to play with Mike, who didn’t make fun of her girly toys. Nomi recalled the Sunday afternoon, mindful of Lito’s presence on the other side of the wall, his mind eager to step into her memory. 

They had just come home from church. Her parents had left immediately for brunch with her father’s business partner, and she and Teagan had been left alone with their babysitter. Nomi had bolted to her room first thing, tearing off the tie that chafed her neck, peeling the suit that encased her body like a casket, tossing both on the corner of her bed.

She heard Lito chuckle as he saw the memory through her eyes, and felt his mind looming over the scene, trying to wipe out the visions from the past to focus on the memory she was trying to hide. She felt Amanita’s fingers brushing against her sides, their lips grazing, their warm bodies huddled in a tangle of limbs on the bed in their apartment. 

In her mind’s eye, the scene in her childhood bedroom was drifting away. 

Lito was feeling victorious. Nomi could feel the hint of a smug grin coming from his end. But she was saved by the sound of a knock from the fading flashback, and she focused her gaze on the door, trying to picture it clearly in her mind. The fading flashback turned opaque again as she pushed her consciousness back into the memory. Lito groaned. 

From behind the door came a little girl’s giggle. It wasn’t exactly a secret how much Nomi hated her church clothes. Smiling, she opened the door, taking in the sight of her sister still dressed in her favorite attire, all strawberry blonde braids and white cotton dress, a radiant smile identical to the one in the family portrait in the living room. 

With a huff, Teagan unloaded her armload of dolls on Nomi’s bed, before plopping down, giving her a gap-toothed smile. 

There was one doll that Nomi favored more than the others. It was a barbie with blue eyes and dark blonde hair. Like her, but not her. And she wasn’t talking about the fact that it was made of plastic. 

She took the doll in her hand and examined her midnight-blue dress, her favorite color. The velvety fabric hugged the doll’s too-perfect figures. She stroked it, smiling.

 _You always take that one,_ her sister whined, gesturing to her large collection strewn about the mattress. _Pick someone else. I want her._

Nomi blushed a little, laying the doll down. _Right. Sorry, T._

_It’s fine, Mikey._

Maybe it was the fact that her parents weren’t around, so she’d let her guard down. When she heard the name, a cringe crept onto her face before she could stop herself. Earlier that day, as the pastor droned on, she had sat on the bench in the front row of her church and imagined herself to be Nomi, the girl in the cyberpunk novel she’d found at the library. 

It was easy to pretend she wasn’t Michael when she was alone, and for a while, she had all but forgotten that Nomi was nothing more than a fantasy.

Teagan had been paying attention to her expression, she noticed too late. She tried to wave it off, but her sister had laid the doll with the blue dress on her lap. _Okay, okay,_ she gave in. _You can take her if you really want to._

She smiled, appreciating the gesture. _Thanks, T. But it’s not that._

Teagan inched closer, looked up at Nomi, and frowned. _Then what is it?_

Nomi opened her mouth, and closed it, wondering what it was she could say.

How was she going to explain that… That she didn’t feel like Mike? That she, more than anything, wanted to be Nomi? To be all of her, not just a person who could crack codes? How was she going to explain that to Teagan?

As far as her parents knew, she was a lost cause since the day she’d quit the swim club. The last thing she needed was to get T into trouble, too.

 _Tell me your secret, Mikey,_ Teagan whispered, her tone dramatic as she glanced at the door, making sure no one was on the other side to eavesdrop. _I wanna keep a secret._

She shook her head. _It’s nothing -_

 _I know you, Mikey. It can’t be nothing._ Teagan crossed her arms.

Nomi sighed. _It’s - it’s hard to explain._

Her sister nodded for her to go on.

 _Sometimes_ \- she took a breath, and shook her head. _No. Not just sometimes. All the time. I don’t… I don’t feel like Mike._

Teagan scrunched up her brows again. _You mean you don’t like your name?_

 _You’re right. I don’t,_ she conceded. She couldn’t find the exact words to describe all that she felt about herself, but at least that was true. It would do for now.

_So why don’t you tell mom and dad? They can change it._

_It’s -_ she stopped mid-sentence, her mind drawing a blank. _They’re - You know how angry they can get. With me. I can’t stand them yelling at me again._

 _Huh._ Teagan frowned, thinking. _Well, you do get in trouble a lot, like all the time -_

At that, Nomi sighed, shaking her head. It was something she couldn’t help. Something her sister, the perfect angel child in her parents’ eyes, wouldn’t understand.

 _\- but I guess we can try giving you a secret name?_ Teagan suggested.

A smile. _Sure. I’d like that._

 _Our little secret,_ Teagan made a motion to zip up her lips.

 _Nomi,_ she told her. _I like Nomi._

Lito smiled as they shook hands behind the closed door. 

Then, remembering his mission, he tried to force their shared mind out of the loop. But it was hard to transition right back to the memory with Amanita. He needed a buffer. So he searched for another memory in Nomi’s mind, a memory of her sister fulfilling their secret promise. 

The memory of dolls was flickering out of his field of vision now, the image blurring as it faded into a memory months later, to flashes of Nomi and Teagan chasing each other in the back garden. Teagan was yelling out her secret name as she tackled her down and started tickling her, and they rolling atop the lawn, sharing a laugh. 

She had called her Nomi. Lito smiled at that thought. It warmed his heart to know someone in her family had cared.

But that memory, too, faded into black. 

*

When Lito could see again, someone behind him was pulling at his shoulders. Muscular hands grappled too hard on his arms, and he could feel bruises forming. He let out a yelp as his eyes watered. Blinking, he took in the sight of a school hallway lined with doors and lockers, students passing by, whispering and pointing.

He had expected Nomi to protest, to pull him away from the memory and bring him back to the loop. But in their mind she was shaking, resistance fading away as he heard her sob. He felt the barrier around her mind crashing down, crumbling.

He wasn’t supposed to see this, he realized, his heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t the memory Nomi was intending to try and hide, but one she had tried to forget on her own. But it came flooding back, triggered by… Which memory was it? The dolls? Or Teagan calling her by her then-secret name?

Too late, he tried to think about Parisian bedrooms and sunlight through the windows and Jonas and the others in the living room making lunch, swallowing back his guilt. But the blue-gray of the lockers zoomed into focus as they stood unmoving in front of Lito’s eyes. 

In front of _her_. 

In the periphery of her vision she made out strawberry-blonde hair and perfectly ironed uniforms, of Teagan making her way past, surrounded by her friends, a group of equally well-groomed girls in her year. Teagan had stopped at an intersection the halls, pausing before she was about to make a turn. She had reached out a hand and opened her mouth, but then closed it again, taking a step back, turning away.

Nomi closed her eyes as her sister ran off, her friends scowling in disapproval before following along. _Teagan, please_ , she wanted to shout, but the boy who had pressed her against the locker had grabbed a hold of the tie around her neck. She choked, gasping for air as red and gold spots flickered in and out in front of her vision. 

 _No no no no, stop,_ Lito thought, his head slamming against the wall behind him as he tried to physically launch himself, along with Nomi, out of this nightmare. This memory. 

He shut his eyes, but it was inside his head, and the vision only grew stronger.

Nomi felt her legs give way under her, felt another boy grab the hem of her shirt. Had these lockers always felt so cold? She pondered that as as a side of her head was pressed against the metal by a firm hand, and grubby, untrimmed fingernails dug into her scalp. 

The boy’s accomplice sneered as he leaned in close. He whispered against her ear, and she felt him spit into her ear as he spoke. _Don’t resist, faggot. No one’s here to save you._

These boys had hurt her before, but no cuts or bruises or dislocated shoulders had stung more than that word.

The vision fast-forwarded. She was watching the empty hallway through a slit on the inside of a locker now, choking out words no louder than whispers as the bell rang and everyone shut themselves behind closed doors. Her breaths came out raspy, constricted by the metal. The walls around her seemed to be drawing closer. Her arms were pressed against her sides, crushing her ribs and lungs.

Her watch ticked on her wrist, marking the time she spent inside the confinement, frightened, helpless. _Trapped_.

The janitor who rescued her said she had been in there a few minutes. But to her it felt like hours. He’d told Nomi a student had come and informed him of her predicament, and after she muttered an incoherent _thanks_ , she was ushered to her next lesson, where Mrs Benderman had chastised her for being late, for not bringing her textbook, and blatantly ignored the crumpled state of her shirt and her red-rimmed eyes.

“ _Stop it!_ ” Lito was shouting now, punching the wooden floor with his fist as he found his consciousness back in the bedroom in which he sat. “ _Fucking monsters._ Nomi, I’m -”

She was sobbing quietly next to him, and he turned her around, letting her bury her head in his chest. He muttered apologies as he stroked her hair, hating himself for not pulling them out of the flashback sooner.

“N-Not your f-fault,” she blubbered, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, Nomi,” he repeated those words, kissing her atop her head. “Those fucking monsters. I’m sorry, _hermana_.”

They sat there, embracing each other in silence for a few moments. Then, “That was when she st-stopped calling me Nomi,” she confessed.

Lito froze. 

There was a voice in the back of their minds, one that belonged to a teenage Teagan. _Stop getting into fights, Mike. You’re better than that._

 _M-Mike?_ was her response, her voice shaking. _T, we said -_

 _That was_ years _ago, Mike. It’s time to stop running away from your problems. Or you’ll only get into more trouble. I’ll see you at home._

“Why?” Lito croaked. “Why couldn’t she -”

“She had her friends, and straight-A’s… And a good future.” She sighed. “Our parents were so proud. She was perfect.”

“Nomi -”

“And me?” she continued before scoffing, but the spite was lost as soon as she sniffled. “I was troubled. She was better off without me.”

“No -”

“It’s all in the past,” she insisted. 

But not forgotten. Never forgotten, Lito knew, judging by the way her mind had spun when she saw the memory she was trying so hard to erase, by the way she still whimpered and trembled whenever she found herself in a small dark space alone.

Lito frowned. “What about now?” he asked, remembering the heartfelt speech Nomi had made at Teagan’s wedding rehearsal dinner.

She smiled then, and a tear trickled down the side of her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, tilting her chin up so she could look at him. “Better,” she told him.

“How?” he asked. He’d always had trouble forgiving. 

She showed him the second memory in her loop.

It was the day she was discharged from the hospital after her surgery. Teagan hadn’t been there to visit again after she’d dropped by as she was waking up. She had begun to think her sister had changed her mind. As she wheeled herself up the ramp in front of her rundown apartment building, she decided to give her sister some space. 

Before her surgery she’d told Teagan she never wanted to see her again, and with that, she had reopened what little wounds they had tried to mend over the years. She’d said it out of spite. She regretted it as soon as the words came out. 

For someone who had been on the receiving end of most cruelties, she had been astounded by how easy it was to be heartless.

When she stopped by her door, she noticed a cardboard box sitting in front it. 

She picked it up and carried it on her lap as she wheeled her way inside. All it said on the label was her address. No returns. 

When she slit open the tape, she was surprised to find another box inside, a purple box, embellished with golden lines on the edges. It opened up from one side like a large journal. 

And inside the box was a dress, wrapped carefully around a thin sheet of pink paper. 

Midnight blue, half-sleeved, with cut-outs on the shoulder. Almost exactly like the dress her favorite doll used to wear. The velvety fabric felt cool to the touch, and she stroked it, smoothing it out, smiling at the way light reflected off the ridges the dress made against her outstretched fingers. 

She looked at the box again. There was a card lying on the bottom with only three words, written in in a familiar elegant cursive.

_I’m sorry, Nomi._

As the memory faded, Nomi found Lito tearing up next to her, not making a sound. Just as she was about to offer him a tissue, she remembered he was visiting from the next room, so she opted for a hug instead, rubbing circles on his back in a motherly fashion until he calmed down.

When he looked up again, she noticed he was grinning amid watery eyes and snotty nose. She couldn’t help but snort, the pain from her earlier flashback ebbing away as she found herself laughing at Lito’s ungraceful expression. “What? What is it?”

He sat up straight, ignoring the way the tears dribbled into his mouth. “I remember that dress.” His grin widened. “You wore that dress to the rehearsal dinner.”

“So I did.” She smiled. “I was saving it for the perfect occasion.”

“It was.” Lito started sobbing again. “It really was.”

*

Lila braced herself for the unknown as she stood in front of Veronika’s office. Frowning, she halted the hand she raised to knock the door. What was this about? The last time Veronika had spoken with her, it was to ask her to go back to Sebastian.

“Come in,” said Veronika behind the still-closed door.

Lila raised her head high and pushed the door open, pursing her lips, convincing herself that Veronika knew nothing. She strolled inside, platform heels tapping against the marble floor, and stopped in front of Veronika’s desk, arms crossed, not taking a seat. “Whatever this is, is it really necessary to call me in to London?”

The older woman glanced up from where she sat, shutting her Moleskine planner, which Lila noticed wasn’t the teal one she’d seen last time. 

With a slight quirk of her dark red lips, Veronika asked, “I just wanted to check in on things. How are you doing with your mission?”

She almost scoffed, but opted for a raised eyebrow instead. “Dogan is dead. Like you asked.”

A sigh. “Not him, Lila.” Veronika leaned forward, widening her steel blue eyes, raising her eyebrows in return. “Sebastian Fuchs.”

“What about him?”

“I was going to ask for his assistance for my next operation. But it would appear he is… Otherwise preoccupied?”

It was Lila’s turn to smirk. “He might be. What do you want from him?”

“Don’t play games with me, Lila.”

“That is not your place to say, _Veronika_.”

Veronika raised her eyebrows again, apparently shocked at her audacity. Lila continued, “What were you hoping to accomplish by confiscating one of us?”

“It was a test.” Veronika leaned back in her chair. “Miss Mwela is in safe hands. That, you do not have to worry about.”

Lila scoffed. “It’s hard to believe you.”

“It was a _test -_ ” she repeated, blue eyes boring into brown with an intensity that cut like a shard of ice. Lila held back a shiver, “- which you failed. You failed the moment you killed Sebastian Fuchs.”

Too late, she gave a startle before she realized Veronika was watching her reaction. She cursed under her breath and reached for the pistol always she kept in her purse. Veronika put up a hand and shook her head.

“There’s no need for that, dear. We both know you won’t pull the trigger.”

Scowling, Lila raised her chin. “And why is that?”

“I have relocated her. Bernard can’t help you find her this time. You need me alive.”

A smirk crept up the corners of Lila’s mouth again. “You’re desperate,” she noted, trying to convince herself as well as the woman in front of her. “I put a stop in your next operation. You have nothing else to hold over us.”

To her surprise, Veronika laughed. That was the first time she’d ever heard the woman laugh. The sound reminded her of hail thumping against a car, the thin layer of metal bending underneath the impact.

“Oh, Lila,” Veronika was smiling when she spoke again, and Lila tried to stand her ground, gripping her hands at the back of the chair in front of her to steady herself, “you are just like everyone else. Pity, really. We could have done great things.”

“I am not like everyone else.”

“Like every _sensate._ Weak. Reckless. Your cluster tried to warn you, didn’t they? But you thought you knew best.”

“I killed Sebastian -” she learned forward, sneering into Veronika’s face - “before you could use him for one of your schemes. We will not let you put a leash around our necks again.”

Another laugh. Lila tried not to cringe. “Did you?”

“Did we what?”

“Are you certain our supply hasn’t already been distributed in Berlin?”

“Bernard told me to ask Sebastian -”

The corners of Veronika’s lips quirked up again. “That was the test, Lila. I had already made an agreement with Sebastian the last time you were in London. The Reciphorum? His men had already passed them down to the dealers.”

 _I played right into her hands._ She felt her stomach clench. Her grip around the back of the chair tightened, turning her knuckles white.

“It was a test, and you failed,” Veronika said, observing her reaction. “You turned against me for the welfare of one of your own. I know now that you cannot be trusted.”

“Haven’t you always known?”

“I wanted to give you one more chance.”

“How merciful.” Lila was seething now, and she reached for her pistol again. “I suppose you’ll have to kill me now?”

Veronika sighed. “No, no. I have discovered a better way to deal with your kind.”

She reminded herself to stay firm. “Have you?”

“Your kind,” she said, scowling like she had a bad taste in her mouth, “finds strength in number. By yourself, you are no match for me. So every mistake you make -” she snapped her finger, acrylic red nails glaring underneath the light in the office - “will bring you closer to working alone.”

Lila jerked her head around, making a move to leave.

“Oh, Lila, it’s too late to warn them now,” said Veronika. “It has already been done.”

*

Nomi and Lito’s memory loop practice had come to a relative success, triggers aside, but among cluster-mates, it was easy to get wrapped up in the emotions behind the memory and forget to break through. Empathy had become as easy as breathing to them. But Jonas said it was a necessary starting place. Perhaps the hosts at their next safe house would be able to help them work on their invasion tactics.

They had decided to toast to a successful first training anyway, though the celebration was stopped short when Nomi’s burner phone rang with an anonymous caller, the now-known code for Bug, who had a way of disguising his phone number. 

“Angels,” his voice was hoarse when Nomi put him on speakerphone.

“Bug, what happened?” Amanita chimed in, concerned.

“The BPO vehicles were erratic, I couldn’t track down where they were headed -” he sounded like he was burying his face in his hands, and they heard a groan - “I’m sorry. Maybe I could have done somethin’ if I -”

“It’s not your fault,” Nomi reminded him. “The world wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if it weren’t for BPO. What is it?”

“I sent over a news footage.”

On Nomi’s laptop, a woman’s voice was solemn as she announced the terrorist attack at the Ibirapuera Park in São Paulo. One dozen dead. Two dozen injured. Culprits shot themselves before the police arrived.

“Fucking BPO.” Amanita clenched her fists.

Mavis had run out of the room then, and slammed the door to the patio behind her as the rest of them made a move to follow. She waited for a few seconds before she started talking rapidly at what looked like thin air. But even the _sapiens_ among them now understood it was a sensate visit, most likely from one of her cluster. After a minute, Mavis stopped talking and hugged them close, whispering a few words before they presumably vanished.

“Are they okay?” Will asked when she came back into the room.

She nodded. Everyone let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. Then Will frowned. “Your cluster. There’s a Brazilian, isn’t there?”

Another nod. “Yeah. He lives in São Paulo.”

Dani let out a gasp, and clasped her hands around her mouth.

Shaking her head, Mavis added, “he’s okay. Some men from the Archipelago came to his house during the attack. His family’s relocating to a hideout. He’ll be -” she sighed, “he’s gonna be on Blockers all the time now.”

“I’m sorry.” Riley came forward. 

“It’s -” Mavis took a deep breath - “it’s a good thing. He’ll be safe.”

That word seemed to mean something different everyday.

*

That night, when Riley took the first shift with Mavis, she found the younger woman staring at her lap, dark brows locked in a frown as she picked at the bracelet she never seemed to take off. It was handmade, and the cords were fraying, though some ends had been sealed with glue. She looked up when she felt Riley watching. An Echo of an emotion flashed by in the consciousness they shared. 

Was it longing? The younger woman’s defenses around her mind were hard to break, but she supposed it came with her years of experience as a sensate spy. Mavis chuckled at that thought. It was Riley’s turn to frown.

“Shouldn’t you take another Blocker?” she asked.

Mavis shrugged, taking out the bottle of black pills she kept in her pocket. “Everyone I’m connected to is Blocked. Well, except for you. And I’m running low.”

“We’ll make more. Kala said the new safe house has a lab in the basement.”

“True. But we’ll have to share with, like, half the Archipelago. BPO’s still on the move.”

Riley sighed. “Everyone’s in danger now.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly safe before. You guys did everyone a favor.”

“But what if -” Riley paused, dreading her next words, her voice shaky - “what if we don’t win? And we’ve just made everything worse?”

“Without all of you, Veronika would have finished spreading the Reciphorum, and sensates would have been toast anyway.”

Riley had to concede with that logic.

“I may have stolen some of Kiira’s reasoning. But still.”

“Is everyone else in your cluster safe?” she asked. Capheus had been worried about his sister since the day they’d met, and Mavis never talked about anyone else except Morgan. The younger woman flinched at the thought of his name.

Riley detected another Echo when she made eye contact to try and say sorry. _Guilt_. She knew the feeling too well.

“I always feel like there was something I could’ve done,” said Mavis. “It can’t change what happened, but I still wonder.”

Riley nodded, and a memory of blood and helicopters and wind on the mountains flickered into her mind. She shut her eyes and pushed the thought away, swallowing hard. _Survivor’s guilt._ Will had told her. And a hint of savior behavior, perhaps.

When she opened her eyes again, Mavis was gazing at her with a newfound intensity, though she didn’t look mad. Just lost in thought. Riley waited for her to speak.

“When you were on the run, Will tried to break into Milton’s mind, didn’t he?”

Riley nodded. “He thought he could use their connection to get information.”

“And you?”

She shook her head.

Mavis’ eyes widened. “Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I saw you with Yrsa that day. You found her memory.”

“I -” Riley paused, wondering just how she had done that. With everything else going on, she had almost forgotten about the encounter. She recalled what Jonas had taught them. “I think I felt an Echo from her, and then I was in her head.”

“You’re a natural, you know,” Mavis observed.

“It can’t be. It’s just a coincident -”

“No.” Mavis sat closer. “It’s really hard for most sensates to _know_ what they’re feeling. Like, yeah, we might cry for some weird not-so-personal reason without knowing what hit us. Not for you, though.”

“But why?”

“Could be experience,” she said after a pause. Riley knew she was watching her closely, though she trusted Mavis not to pry, knowing the younger woman wouldn’t want her to do so in return. “And besides that, some just people feel things deeper than others, and they couldn’t help it — they were born that way. That’s our best guess. Again, I may have stolen this theory from Kiira.”

“Do you feel the same?”

“Hmm.” She thought about it. “Not exactly. I prefer to just trick people. Let them recall what I wanna see.”

 _Had they met under more peaceful circumstances, she and Lito would have gotten on well,_ Riley concluded. Mavis smirked upon hearing that thought. 

“Maybe. Or we’ll just drive each other nuts.”

That made her chuckle. “When this is over, you can find out for yourself.”

 _When this is over,_ thought the younger woman, making her smile. For a second she almost looked happy. 

“Do you know where you’ll go?” asked Riley.

Mavis looked down at her lap again, at the carefully woven red and blue bracelet on her wrist, the bright colors clashing against each other. “Home.” 

Riley turned her gaze to the bedroom door, behind which Will was sleeping. “Me too.”

“Gonna introduce him to your dad?” Mavis teased, making Riley blush.

“Yes. Are you planning to do the same with yours?” 

Mavis was unusually silent, brown-eyed gaze frozen as she sat and stared at Riley, mouth open slightly. After a minute of silence, she sat back, crossing her arms. “What - How in the world did you know?”

A smirk. She had seen the way Mavis looked at the Brazilian on the patio, even if the visitor was invisible to her eyes. “So, will you?”

Mavis raised her chin, “My dad already knows.”

“Did they give you this?” she pointed at Mavis’ bracelet.

Instead of responding, the younger woman scrunched up her nose and thought of a memory, the images too fleeting for Riley to catch a glance in their shared mind. But the Echo remained for a few seconds more, and the mere impression made Riley smile. 

 _Wonder_. Mixed with a hint of amusement. She could see Mavis giggling.

Actually she couldn’t see anything, but the body she had inhabited was giggling, and it sounded like Mavis. Riley felt calloused hands caressing her cheeks.

 _This kinda tickles,_ she heard Mavis’ voice. _Whatcha doing?_

 _I can see you,_ came a young man’s voice opposite of her, filled with wonder. _I can see you. And I can feel you. But you’re not really here, are you?_

 _Nope. I’m in New York,_ Mavis answered. _I’m Mavis, by the way._

She felt a hand grab hers gently. _Gabriel._

_Where are you?_

_São Paulo. Wow. So yesterday…_

_Yep, that was me._

He paused. _How do you know?_

_I couldn’t see for a few seconds. Are you -_

_I was born blind,_ he explained. _Yesterday was the first time I - but how -_

 _We’re sharing,_ she told him. _Right now you can see and I can’t._

_Will we ever get to see each other at the same time?_

She felt Mavis nod. _I think so. I’ll just have to find another one of us to share with._

When Riley regained awareness of her body in the living room again, she saw Mavis winking at her. “That was the first time we met. Told you you’re a natural.”

Riley smiled. “ _So_.”

Mavis knew what she was going to ask. “He gave this to me, yeah.” She showed her the bracelet. “Dad and I flew to São Paulo before I left to work for BPO two years ago.”

Riley saw a boy with black curls bunched up in a low ponytail, felt gentle hands sliding the handmade bracelet up her wrist. It had been a surprise. He’d made it on his own and hidden it from the rest of the cluster for a week before Mavis’ visit. 

 _Be safe,_ he’d whispered, out of earshot as his parents were debriefed by Mavis’ stepdad in the kitchen. _Come back to me._

‘ _Course I will,_ Mavis had tried to sound lighthearted, but Riley knew she had been just as worried. _And when I see you again, I expect to see myself on a statue._

It was then that Riley noticed the sculptures around his room. Some were lined on the bookshelf, and a few large ones with abstract forms were placed near the corner of the wall, next to pieces of uncut wood and half-chiseled plasters. Gabriel made sculptures using his sense of touch, she thought, in awe of his dedication. That would explain the callouses.

He laughed, and pulled Mavis close for a kiss. They smiled when their lips made contact. The presence flowing between their minds was overwhelming.

 _It’s a deal,_ he promised when they finally pulled away.

And as Riley’s mind was lifted from the memory, she was smiling too.

“I’ll miss him,” Mavis confessed. “I miss all of them. More everyday.”

“But they’re safe,” Riley recalled what Mavis had said earlier. Right now it was the only thing keeping all of them sane: knowing their families were out of harm’s way.

“They are. I’ve got the Archipelago looking out for Gabriel and Kiira. The other two’s been stuck in safe shelters since Pelzer started hunting them down three years ago.”

“Have you talked to them?”

She shook her head. “They’ve been on Blockers.” Then, trying to lighten up the mood, “Last time I talked to them, they told me they’re getting cabin fever.”

“We’ll get them free. All of them.” 

Riley didn’t want to think about what she had to lose. She wasn’t sure she could go through that a second time.

“We just have to get rid of BPO,” Mavis said. “We’ve got this. Shouldn’t take too long now.”

“It shouldn’t,” Riley agreed, before they lost themselves to silence.

They would bring down BPO. They would. 

They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been told this chapter has the tendency to fuck people up in matters of the feels. So I feel obligated to offer virtual hot chocolate and hugs. Feel free to take one, or both!
> 
> Chapter 16 will have a LOT of development in terms of plot and/or relationships, so stay tuned!
> 
> And a big thank you *and more hugs* to Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr) for being a wonderful sensitivity reader as always! I apologize for the emotional torment you had to read in advance, Sav. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THEIR FICS, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? GO GO GO!


	16. Something much stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which several people travel to new places, and many old problems escalate.  
> “He’s my brother. And not by something as accidental as blood… By something much stronger. By choice.”  
> — From S1E8, “We Will All Be Judged by the Courage of Our Hearts”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter got WAY out of hand but I have no regrets. I know how much you all love long chapters sooooo. Here ya go.
> 
> Also, I've decided to make use of my twitter account (@ch1toinfinity), which has been sort of dormant since Sense8 was renewed for a special. I literally made the account to troll Netflix, haha! 
> 
> I made a tag, #VeracitySense8 and I might pop by occasionally to offer one-line sneak peeks. Just thought I'd let you know, for those of you who like these sort of things :)

******July 15, 2017**

On the flight home, Capheus gazed out the window, lost in thought as the pink clouds at sunset drifted by. The city underneath had long since disappeared from view. From up high, it was difficult to imagine that the threat to his very existence could be hidden among the structures that grew smaller every second.

It was just a matter of perspective, he supposed. Once he had wondered why the most powerful people had offices in skyscrapers. Perhaps it was a means of reassurance, to be above everyone else. A validation of power.

The bodyguards sat on either side of him, backs stiff against the chair, clutched fists at the ready in case of an attack. It was, as one of the Guys from Veracity had told him, a precaution. Capheus Onyango had become a well-known name following his political campaign, after all. And after this public debate against Mandiba? He imagined his fame would spring out of control. 

But he’d always taken life one day at a time, and it had served him well thus far. So by the time he landed at Jomo Kenyatta International he was beaming. More so when he saw his mother, dressed radiantly in an orange dress she’d sewn herself, glowing and healthy. Like how he remembered her as a boy. 

“Oh, my Zebra!”

Her smile froze when she saw two tall muscular men following close behind him.

“Not to worry, mother. They’re here to protect us,” he reassured.

She nodded, slowly, glancing up and down at them, her gaze focused on the area near their pockets. He gave her a slight shake of the head. Weapons would never have made it past customs, and their black suits had caught enough attention as they were.

A black minivan was waiting for them outside the airport, surrounded by half a dozen of black cars. Mr Kabaka, dressed in full formal attire complete with a tie, waved at Capheus from the lowered window at the driver’s seat. The back door slid open to reveal a beaming Amondi, who beckoned Capheus inside. 

“Van Damme!” the girl threw her arms around him as the car started, squeezing the air out of him as she laughed. “How was your vacation?”

That gave him a pause. Apparently his mother thought it was best not to reveal everything yet. He didn’t like to think how many lies she’d had to make in his absence. 

“It was fun,” he said. “It’s good to be back.”

Shiro turned back from the passenger seat, giving him a meaningful look. “We’re staying with Mr Kabaka. Don’t want Mandiba’s men finding you.”

He nodded. “Any more trouble while I was away?”

“We’re staying at our vacation home,” Amondi chimed in. “They didn’t find us. It’s our secret lair. You’ll love it.”

The girl’s enthusiasm was contagious, and he couldn’t help smiling in return. “I’m sure I will.” Then, turning to his mother again, “Does Zakia know?”

She nodded. “She has visited many times. And Jela.”

“Zakia’s the best!”

“Yes, Amondi has taken a liking to her.” From the rearview mirror, Mr Kabaka gave Capheus a wink. “She’s a nice girl.”

He felt his cheeks warm. “She is.”

“And I suppose these men are informed as well?” Mr Kabaka asked, turning to look at the bodyguards seated in the back row after he stopped for a red light.

They nodded, not saying a word. 

“My - my friends thought it was best that they stayed with me on my flight, just in case,” Capheus explained.

“Good. You have smart friends.” Mr Kabaka turned back and started driving again. “Considering what happened last time, you will need all the protection you can get.”

Capheus sighed. The most well-protected people are the ones in most danger. He wondered which of his enemies would get to him first. 

*

When Riley, Will, and Jonas made their ways down the pebbled walkway, their eyes widened as they took in the view of the creamy white house, surrounded by rose bushes. 

Next to them, Mavis giggled, earning a glare from Jonas. Mavis had stayed at this place for a few days before she moved to London and started working for BPO. She had told them to expect a large utilitarian house with exposed bricks and a concrete driveway. Sun and Kala, they now realized, were in on this joke. They felt betrayed.

“ _Holy shit_ , it’s Riley Blue!”

A man in a lime green, short-sleeved shirt with half the buttons undone strolled down pebbled walkway in greeting, extending his hand as Riley gave him a small wave. “Leon Tucker. I used to come to your set every week in London.”

With everything that had been going on, they’d nearly forgotten about Riley’s near-celebrity status in the EDM world of Western Europe. 

“Thank you,” Riley said, shaking Leon’s hand as a blush crept up her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she was happy to be recognized, instead of horrified.

“Bloody hell, May, you could’ve warned me,” said Leon.

“Why?” Mavis hid a smirk. “So you could’ve worn your best shirt?”

“All my shirts are perfectly suitable for the occasion, I’ll have you know,” Leon said, pretending to be offended as he made a dramatic 180-turn and sauntered back, leading the rest of the guests into the house, muttering, “But I would’ve worn my best tie.”

Before Leon could reach for the doorknob, the door opened from the inside. A boy peeked his head out to grin at the visitors. Leon gave him a salute.

Walking inside, Mavis stopped in front of the child, pretending to frown as she crossed her arms to examine him. “Do I know you?”

Damien’s grin widened. He puffed out his chest. “Nah. I’m a changed man.”

She reached forward to ruffle his hair. “‘Course you were, Damien. Last time I was here you were, gee, I don’t know -” she leveled her hand to half his height - “this tall?”

He pulled his head back and stuck out his tongue. “I was _seven_ , not two!” he shouted as he ran back upstairs.

Leon invited the guests into the living room. “Oi, Genevieve!” he stuck his head in as the matted glass door slid open. “We’ve got company!”

From the small velvet couch close to the drop-down window, an ivory-skinned woman was reading _MacBeth_. She lay on the seat of her couch, her legs bent over the back. Her tangle of red curly hair hung from the edge of the seat, and she tilted her head back to smile at the visitors upside-down, laying the book on her chest. They held back a chuckle.

“Mornin’. And Mavis! Howya!” Genevieve greeted, a smooth Irish accent rolling off her tongue. She turned to her equally amused cluster-mate, “Leon, help me out here.”

He walked over, but paused just before she could reach him. “You forgot the magic word.”

An exasperated sigh. “Fine. Help me out here, _knucklehead_.”

Leon held out his hand, but before she could grab it, he scooped one arm under Gen’s back and another behind her bent knees, carrying her to her feet bridal-style. She screeched as she swooped in the air. The copy of _MacBeth_ fell on the floor, and she picked it up and whacked him on the arm with it, before turning to the group. “‘M sorry about him.”

“Why must you always hang like a bat if you can’t get off the couch?” he muttered.

“Because sitting upright is _boring_ ,” she explained, more to the visitors than to Leon. “I’m a big fan of yours too, Riley Blue. But I’m sure Leon’s gushed over you enough for both of us.”

Jonas smirked. “It would appear your reputation precedes you, Riley.”

Mavis started laughing then. Will turned to her, puzzled. Winking, she nodded at the gigantic worn-out poster of _Our Father Who Art In Hell_ on the living room wall. When Leon turned to see where she was looking, she turned her head away, mouthing “it’s a surprise”. 

And when Lito arrived with Hernando and Dani that afternoon, they were astonished to find their future host frozen in the middle of his step, flapping his hand towards the direction of the front door as his mouth opened and closed, uttering no sound except the occasional incomprehensible croaking.

*

Veronika dialed the Professor’s number on her phone. She tapped her red acrylic nails against the screen as she waited for him to pick up. Her new black Moleskine lay open on her desk, and she took a moment to admire her penmanship, scrutinizing the way the indigo ink settled on the page, neat letters against an invisible horizontal line.

 _July 5th. Shanghai_. 

She smiled, running a finger across the cursive letters that beckoned to her every command. Bernard would be happy to hear about the new development. If all went well, the next operation could work in both their favors.

Growing up, Veronika had seen too many visitors gathered in the family room at her father’s commands, sensates and _sapiens_. One thing they had in common was the way they’d strive to make deals that ensured mutual profit. The sensates’ powers would be of use to her father’s operations, and they would get paid generously in return. 

He had failed to see the danger these people could bring.

But Veronika did. Her stepmother had been a source of fear since she’d moved into her home. She found fault in everything Veronika did, and punished her behind closed doors, one mind against many. 

And it was worse once Veronika realized not everyone would grow up to have their own cluster. Her stepmother, she had realized, was a different species altogether. A species that Veronika had grown to fear. 

Their linked minds gave them an unfair advantage: her stepmother was never alone. Veronika was. 

Her father was no help. _Stop whining, Veronika,_ he’d say as he polished the sleek, limited edition black rifle, a gift from a business partner that he’d placed atop their fireplace like a trophy. _It is not becoming of a Makarova to complain and take no action._

As a child, only thing Veronika could control was the way a pen moved across her page, following the guidance of her hand. But that, too, proved to be erratic, circumstantial. Some letters would come out slanted, or too bold, or too close together… 

So she’d practice for hours into the night. And on her 18th birthday, the elegant cursive finally beckoned to her command. It was a sign, a sign that she was old enough to execute this level of control in the real world, away from the page. To fix the problem, because she could live with it no longer.

 _All she was doing,_ she’d told herself as she aimed the stolen rifle from her hideout in the rundown back alley, _was was leveling the playing field._ The world would take care of the rest.

As her stepmother’s body hit the ground with a _thud_ , she felt lighter. She was free. And she was addicted with the sheer power that came with pulling the trigger.

One day, every _sapien_ in the world would see what she saw. 

“Bernard,” she said, as the Professor picked up her call from the other end, “get in touch with the technicians. Erase Bak’s records.”

“The embezzlement transactions?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

She clucked her tongue. “When has my plan ever failed?”

“A valid point. And you wish to do this because?”

“As it stands, Bak is a valuable business partner. A major means of financial support for our organization, though I have yet to enlighten him on the details of our operations.”

“Ahh. You cannot have him behind bars.”

“That would be a most unfortunate loss, yes,” she agreed. “And our men have been working tirelessly to ensure the Seoul Metropolitan Police doesn’t get ahold of anything else incriminating. I have plans to bail him out of police detention some time soon. Though I have been told one particular detective has been meaning to testify against him in an upcoming trial.”

She heard him sigh. “On what grounds?”

“A lot of the illegal transactions from Bak Enterprises was linked to his account.”

“What of the sister?”

“I have reason to believe Miss Bak didn’t act alone when she escaped from prison.”

“You think she received help? From whom?”

Dark red lips curled into a smirk. “When Joon-Ki called me after her disappearance following the car accident, I did a little file-searching myself.”

“Found anything of note?”

“Yes.” There was an inflection to her voice, a tone of utter amusement. “Her birthday. August 8th, 1988.”

He chuckled. “I’m surprised it took us so long to find out”

“You know what this means, don’t you, Bernard?”

“Catching her would solve two of our problems. Have you got a plan to lure her out?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“Miss Bak is a martial arts champion. I believe she and Officer Gorski -” _and Wolfgang,_ she added, scowling - “are the muscles of their cluster.”

“You have found a way to draw them out of hiding, then?”

“I have spoken to Karl. Save for a few minor preparations at the Beijing facility, the next attack is ready to launch. And this cluster will have every reason to rush to the rescue.” 

“Why is that?”

She smirked. “I have found the perfect bait.”

*

Paris.

When Amanita thought of Paris she thought of roses, of slow music and wine-colored dresses, of strolling down dimly lit paths at midnight. Romantic? Sure. Overrated? Probably.

Though whatever preconceptions she’d held of the city of love had shattered the moment she and Nomi had dashed out of the Eurostar. She’d never associated this city with the thrill of a chase, but that was exactly what they had done the moment they arrived: hid in the restroom and put on disguises, away from the prying eyes of BPO spies and surveillance cameras. And she had to admit, she liked this version of Paris a whole lot better. 

She felt like Nancy Drew. Better than Nancy, actually. Nancy didn’t have Noms.

The Headhunters, though, was definitely a downside. 

 _Note to self,_ she thought, as she and Nomi squeezed their ways past another congregation at the platform, the train swooshing away behind them, _come back here with Noms on a proper honeymoon. When gun-wielding creepers aren’t breathing down our necks._

She heard Nomi grunt as a scraggly man with a goatee pushed his way past her, bumping into her shoulder. Putting an arm around her fiancée, Amanita pulled her close, trying to shield her from further run-ins with inconsiderate subway-goers. She turned to glare at the rude man: pale, bald, with dark tattoos on the back of his neck, wearing a black sports jacket and a dark gray woolen hat. And a giant-ass scarf.

“Who dresses like that in summer?” Nomi muttered next to her. 

She rolled her eyes. “A lunatic who rams into people at subway stations?”

Nomi chuckled. Amanita gave her a cheeky smile. 

“Seriously though,” Nomi said again, turning back to look at the man who was casually leaning against the wall near the exit elevator, watching the crowd thin out as people squeezed their ways in the lift, “what is up with that gigantic scarf?”

It was certainly a longer than normal scarf, Amanita noted, frowning as she made out the pattern, yellow and orange stripes between blocks of gray, moss green and beige. Maybe the guy wore it to match his whole winter-y look. Then the man in question lifted his head to look in her direction, and she swore under her breath, turning away. Nomi grabbed her hand and pulled her up the escalator.

“It’s a _Doctor Who_ scarf,” she inched closer to Nomi, putting a hand on her shoulder as she tip-toed to whisper into her ear. The steps started moving beneath them.

Nomi turned to look her in the eyes, the tip of her nose brushing against her cheek, making her grin. “Maybe it’s special.”

 _Special._ Her fingers brushed against her engagement ring. She’d taken to tracing it with her right thumb whenever she was with Noms. The reminder made her feel all sorts of giddy, the kind she only used to get when she’d had too much champagne. 

Nomi chuckled. “Let’s get to _you-know-where_ ,” she whispered, a hand on the small of Amanita’s back to guide her out of the way. “And then -” a teasing eyebrow peeked up from behind the rim of her glasses - “we can celebrate.”

Humming, Amanita turned to do a quick check behind them. She frowned when she noticed the creepy man in the _Dr Who_ scarf strolling nearby, eyes locked straight ahead. Nomi ducked her head upon noticing the change in her expression, and they hurried forward, worming their ways through a particularly tight crowd.

Just one flight of stairs left before they’d get to the other platform. They ran, hoping that if he hadn’t lost them, at least he wouldn’t be able to catch up. She noticed a restroom sign on her right and pulled Nomi inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Remind me to wear flats next time. These shoes are killing me.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, Neets.” Nomi pecked her on the cheek, sympathetic towards her fiancée’s plight. Then she pulled out a folded print-out map from the side pocket of her bag. Amanita leaned in, smiling as she made out the faint jasmine smell of Nomi’s perfume. 

“This is the last transfer?”

Nomi nodded. “We should be there soon.”

“Thank _God_ ,” she groaned, clinging to Nomi’s arm as they made their way out again.

She could feel her feet swelling up in her black ankle boots. Damn these rock-hard soles and impossible heels. How pretty they looked had become irrelevant an hour ago.

Thankfully there didn’t appear to be anyone else on the platform. And a train was just pulling into the station. Her wish had come true. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made out a few unoccupied seats through the window.

“Told you they’d hurt,” Nomi teased, looking down at her feet.

“But they’re _cute_ ,” she whined as they stepped aside to let people off the train. Then, in a lower voice as Nomi guided her inside, their arms intertwined, “If we’re gonna go rogue, we need to kick ass and look good doing it.”

Nomi chuckled as she all but collapsed into the nearest seat. “You can’t kick ass if you can’t walk, Neets.”

That was fair, she supposed. She leaned her head on Nomi’s shoulder as the train started moving. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but the next thing she knew, Nomi was tapping her on the nose, telling her they about to reach their stop.

*

**July 16, 2017**

“I am perfectly capable of flipping this pancake myself, Hernando.”

“Or you could use the spatula,” his partner suggested, standing aside nonetheless to let him have at it. He pushed up his glasses with the back of his hand, careful to avoid smearing pancake batter on his lens. “There’s no shame in using the spatula.”

Lito shook his head. With a triumphant smile and a well-practiced flick of his wrist, the pancake leapt out of the skillet and somersaulted in the air twice. He caught it with the pan in his hand, smirking to an amused Hernando as he showed off his success. 

“Beautiful, baby,” Hernando said, stepping behind him to grab the skillet from his hand,  taking the chance to press his chest against his back. “But -”

“But what?” Lito turned around so that their noses was touching. 

Teasing, Hernando took a step back. He raised the skillet under Lito’s chin. “But it landed on the same side. Everyone’s gonna eat half-burned pancakes.”

An indignant huff. From the other side of the kitchen, Dani giggled as she poured more coffee beans into the grinder. “You should leave it to the expert, Lito.”

Hernando brought the pan back to the stove. “See, two against one,” he said, flipping the pancake once more so that it landed on the other side, the way the fundamental rules of cooking breakfast foods intended.

“ _Ay_ , that is not fair,” Lito whined. “You’re ganging up on me. _Again_.”

“Well -” Hernando turned to place the pancake on top of the stack sitting on the kitchen island - “if you want to be technical, there’s no way we can outnumber you. You have your cluster, your… Your mind-network connections. There’s eight of you.”

“ _Four_ ,” Lito corrected, crossing his arms as he plopped himself down on a high stool by the kitchen island, pouting. “Some of them have to stay on Blockers.”

“Hmm.” Hernando sat down next to him and picked up a chopping board. He started peeling oranges with a small knife, curling the shavings around the half-exposed fruit in a phoenix-tail fashion. “How does that feel, when they’re on Blockers?”

The coffee grinder started whirring. Dani walked over to join them.

“Like half of me is missing,” he said, his voice hollow. “Yes, I know - I know I am here. All of me. But my cluster, their voices had been in my head for a year. Like background music. Always there — their thoughts, feelings… And now half of them is silent. It’s too quiet.”

“Voices in your head. Interesting.” Hernando scratched his beard. “Do they ever fight?”

He laughed. “All the time.”

“How?” asked Dani.

“We disagree on what to do. One of us would be in a situation and the rest of us would argue with each other. ‘Kill him’, or ‘Don’t kill him, leave it to the police’. And then someone else would say, ‘But the police can’t do anything’. Will usually disagrees there.”

“And that… helps?” she asked.

A chuckle. “Usually it leaves them more confused. But we keep them company. And we understand each other. It helps.”

His family smiled. Lito knew they were thinking about the days he’d spent wallowing in self-pity at the loss of his career. 

“But you -” Lito gestured between the two of them, smiling - “you two help, too. In a different way. And I need both kinds of help.”

“Do you?” Hernando laid the artfully peeled oranges in the middle of a large plate like an art display. Lito knew he was only pretending to sound unconvinced. “They know everything. Why do you need us?”

Dani smirked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Because -” he stood up and moved until he was right behind his family, and he poked his head forward, whispering into their ears - “you don’t need to be a sensate to know what I’m thinking. Neither of you do.”

They smirked at that. His emotions were etched on his face, he knew, more often than not. “But that’s not the only thing,” he added. “You don’t just know what I’m thinking. You know how to fix me.”

“Of course we do, Lito,” said Dani. “Who could say no to a Kit Wrangler movie?”

“But it was _you_ who knew it would get me out. You helped me get the part, Dani. Without you and Hernando I would have - I would have still been in bed with a tub of Ben  & Jerry’s.”

Hernando frowned. “Well -” 

“Yes, maybe not.” He cringed as he remembered the day Hernando found him bleeding on the bathroom floor. BPO would have gotten to them either way. “But at least now I have a future when we get back, no?”

 _But when would that be?_ said a voice in the back of his mind that didn’t belong to anyone in the cluster. Shooting was gonna start in less than three months. What if he was already -

 _No._ Another voice cut in, one that sounded a lot like Will. _We’ve never failed before. Now’s not gonna be an exception._

His family was watching him, frowning, as he argued with himself inside his mind. He shook his head and gave them a sheepish smile. They sighed.

“Lito. We’re going to go home after this fight,” said Dani. Hernando nodded next to her as they both looked Lito in the eye. “And we will go on a freaking vacation to celebrate taking down these BPO _pirañas_ before we head to LA.” 

“We will.” He repeated, trying to convince himself. The voices in his head were quiet now. “Thank you, family. This is what I needed to hear. And -” he smiled, remembering his earlier point - “only you would have known to say that.”

“Not bad for a _sapien_?” Hernando teased. Lito grinned.

“I guess you’re right, Lito.” Dani leaned back, propping her elbows against the kitchen island. “We do know what you’re thinking.”

Lito’s grin widened. “Guess what I’m thinking now?”

Hernando turned to the stack of pancakes, putting a glass lid on top so they wouldn’t get cold by the time everyone else came down. “These pancakes. They’re missing something.”

“Missing what?”

Dani and Hernando exchanged a nod, before she got up and sauntered to the fridge, pulling out a bowl. “Blueberries.”

“You’re right,” Lito concurred. “Not bad for a _sapien_.”

*

Felix watched Dani as she started rinsing the dishes in the sink. She’d told him a few days ago that she enjoyed doing them by hand. She said she liked the sensation of warm water running the gaps between her fingers. 

He’d deduced that she grew up rich. For poor pieces of shit like him, who had to wash all of their dishes by hand, the thrill of it would’ve been lost a long time ago.

She scrubbed at the stains with a careful hand, head tilting in satisfaction as she held it near the window and verified that it was spotless. He noticed she was still wearing the old t-shirt and shorts she slept in. That was new. 

In their old hideouts she was always fully dressed before breakfast. They all were, actually, like they were bracing themselves for an invasion. Maybe there was something about living in a proper house with amiable company that made all of them relax for a change.

BPO may have been operating under the guise of a non-profit organization bullshit, but they organize themselves just like any old gang. He’d seen it in the criminals Wolfie used to call family. The carefully aimed pistols, crinkly eyes zoomed in on the target like a hawk, waiting to strike fatally when they were most exposed. Vulnerable.

And here he thought Sergei was the end of their gang problems. Who knew he had a psycho for an aunt with an army of creepy mind-controlled soldiers, too? Why did he have to befriend the one guy whose life was a literal fucking soap opera? At this point, Felix wouldn’t even bat an eye if all of this turned out to be the doing of Wolfie’s evil twin.

Though at least he and Wolfie weren’t alone anymore. Two against many didn’t always work in their favor. So despite how he admired the way Conan fought his battles, it was nice to know that he had backup, should either of them wind up getting their asses kicked.

That wasn’t the only perk of having allies, he reminded himself, looking over at Dani once more. When he first met her, his intentions had been totally different. _The eye wants what the eye wants,_ he tried to tell himself. 

Though she’d shut down the idea, and opted for making fun of his old mugshot. (His fucking long hair. What was he thinking?) They’d gotten to know each other better since, but no matter how much he bragged about his damsel-saving ways, she only answered with a teasing eyebrow, asking for more stories as she poured him another shot. 

(Also, she’d always out-drink him. That alone made her all the more impressive.)

What he liked most about Dani was that she knew how to hold a conversation and party wild at the same time. She never let danger stop her from having a little fun. They had a blast on Salsa Night at the bar with the fancy-ass name he couldn’t remember. All he recalled from that evening was a billowing red dress and the way he’d stumbled over his feet after downing one too many vodka tonics. After hanging out with his stoic best buddy for so long, it was refreshing to find someone who talked as much as he did.

But she seemed less eager to talk about her recent past. He had many reasons not to pry, one being he wasn’t completely upfront about his, either. And, from being friends with Wolfie for all these years, he knew that if she wanted to open up, she would. Eventually. 

He’d always enjoyed seeing Dani in killer heels and dresses that hugged her figure at all the most enticing places, reminders that she was way, _way_ out of his fucking league. Domestic wasn’t usually his type, but damn if she wasn’t a vision. Maybe he liked this side of her a little better, he thought, grinning as she started humming. She uttered the lyrics in Spanish, hips swaying along to the rhythm, feet shuffling in cozy, pink, fluffy slippers. 

She seemed less guarded. Not a care in the world. _Happy_.

Her head bobbed as she got to the climax of the song, and a chunk of her hair slipped out of the messy bun atop her head, brushing against the skin beneath her neck as it fell down. But she didn’t notice. She was concentrating on a mug she held, turning a sponge around the rim, examining it against the sunlight.

Holding back a chuckle, he wondered when he’d gotten so close. He was standing a mere step behind her. And surprisingly she didn’t seem to have noticed. 

The strand of hair was swaying now, too, and the slightly curled end flopped from side to side. He wondered if it tickled. Without thinking, he reached forward, caught the loosened hair between his fingers and lifted the strand, trying to tuck it back into her hairband.

She flinched. 

The mug fell into the sink with a clatter, and the next thing he knew, she had turned to face him. Her hands clawed the edges of the counter as she tried to back away. For a few seconds she just looked at him with a frozen gaze he could only describe as _terror_ , as a corner of her mouth twitched, the tiniest fraction of a spasm most people would have missed. 

And then, shaking her head, she let out a deep breath, putting one hand over her heart as she straightened herself.

“Felix!” she tried to laugh it off, even tried to flash him a grin, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “ _Ay_ , you scared me!”

Fuck. Now he’d gone and done it.

“Oh, sorry,” he tried to play it dumb. Tried to put on his shit-eating grin as he slowly backed away. “I’ll uhh - I’ve got shit to unpack.”

And then he was dashing out of the kitchen. His side slamming against the corner of the kitchen island in his rush to get out, and he suppressed a groan. The next thing he knew he was dashing down the stairs, locking himself in his bedroom.

He’d fucked up, he told himself as he sat on his bed, frowning at nothing in particular. Not intentionally, but he’d screwed up all the same, triggered the fear she had tried so hard to bury. For a few seconds he had made her look at him in a way that reminded him of the way Wolfie looked at his father before a fist came pummeling into his chest. He had made her believe she was going to be hit. 

Wolfie would’ve killed him if he’d overreacted, if he’d made a big fuss out of scaring her. He had to play it cool. But, he reminded himself, he had to be careful, too. The last thing he wanted was to do was make her afraid.

First Wolfie, and now Dani. It would seem that, for reasons unknown, he just happened to attract broken people. Because now he cared about another one. 

*

“ _The Bug_ has located a pattern in the BPO migration,” said the hacker’s voice through the speaker. He inched his face forward so that his round eyes stared straight at the camera.

“Where are they going?” Nomi asked. In the living room, everyone paused in their midday routines to listen.

“I realized somethin’, Noms. You know how I couldn’t figure out the Bolgers were being transported to São Paulo?” he paused, making Amanita roll her eyes. “It’s because they were diverting their task forces, see. Sendin’ these Bolgers, and folks in Hazmat suits, to multiple cities at once. And you know what my theory is?”

“They’re gonna use all of them?” Nomi guessed. On the other end, Bug gave her a slow nod.

“The problem is, Angels, I don’t know which city they’re planning on attackin’ next. And the cities they were sendin’ them to? ‘S all over the world.”

“Where in the world?” asked Amanita, sitting down next to Nomi. They clutched their hands together and looked at each other, frowning.

“Well, China, for starters. I’m thinking Beijing. One of the BPO headquarters is there, right, buddy?” Nomi nodded. “They might be reloading their supplies while they’re at it. And then there’s Germany. Most likely Berlin. Don’t know what they’re plannin’ over there.”

“Probably another terrorist attack,” Nomi speculated.

“And there’s one more place.”

“Where?”

Bug took a deep breath. “Kenya. And, judging by these surveillance footage and air traffic monitors, all the people they’re sendin’ to Africa are on their way to Nairobi.”

*

At the Seoul Metropolitan Police Station, all the other detectives had gone home for the night except Detective Kwon-Ho Mun.

Mun leaned forward, elbows propped against his desk, eyes a mere inch away from the monitor screen. The page he had pulled up was blank, devoid of the names and numbers he had spent the past few weeks memorizing. Transaction records to and from Bak Enterprises within the last two years. _Gone_. Like the company had halted in their operations and recently started afresh.

He was never one to swear, but as he clutched his fists and slammed his forehead against the keyboard, he knew he was dangerously close to blurting out his collection of obscenities at full volume, surveillance cameras be damned. 

The Detective kicked against the leg of the desk, and his chair started rolling back until he hit the wall, making the file cabinet in the corner rattle. At the very least —

Thankfully the printed records were still there, hidden beneath overlapping folders and certificates. But printed words on paper was no effective verification if the banks had lost all data pertaining to company's spendings. Perhaps he could ask a worker at the bank to testify the documents he had in hand. It seemed like the most logical option. 

Then again, if Mr Bak had the resources to erase the existing incriminating evidence, who was to say he wouldn’t take it one step further?

He lifted the hem of his shirt to peek at the scars near his abdomen. The most recent one was still an angry red, puckered down the middle, little indents on the sides where the needle wormed its way in to stitch it up. A faded one lay underneath, a longer, thinner line, barely noticeable compared to its new counterpart.

Gingerly, he traced the white scar and watched it gleam as he turned his body underneath the light in his office. The skin in that area still stung whenever he touched it, but he closed his eyes and let the feeling sink in. Pain meant he was alive. But it also reminded him that he wouldn’t have been if he’d run out of luck.

Two strikes. Should there be a third, it would most likely be the last. He decided he didn’t want to find out just yet.

Because of the footage, the station had put Mr Bak in police detention for harming a police officer. Bak’s lawyer had insisted it was an accident. He suspected Mr Bak would be bailed out soon — that crime alone wouldn’t have granted him much time behind bars either way. Unfortunately, without Miss Bak’s testimony, the court would not agree to another trial. And the longer the wait, the more likely another lead would mysteriously disappear.

The fact of the matter was, Joong-Ki Bak had more connections than the Detective had anticipated, be it corrupt politicians or hired arms, though he had a feeling neither were responsible for the most recent development. This wasn’t the first time electronic data related to Mr Bak had vanished, but he knew better than to hope that the transaction record, like the surveillance footage from the Bak Summer Gala, would find its way back. 

And as the identity of most of Bak’s allies remained, unfortunately, unknown, the safest option at this stage was to refrain from any form of confrontation. He could stick to investigating from his safety of his office until he found another lead. He’d received more than his share of help already. It would have been wishful thinking to expect more from the same self-proclaimed good samaritan. 

 _Hang on_. He inched the chair forward with his feet to grab the notepad on his desk. _The caller who claimed to have recovered the footage had been foreign._

Middle-aged man. Most likely American, judging by his accent. The call could have been done via a voice simulator. But the fact that he had communicated in English, simulator or not, must have meant something. A hint? Or perhaps a red herring, though his intuition was inclined towards the former. 

Who knew this case would turn into an international scavenger hunt? And, if the person had been helping from abroad, it would be reasonable to assume whoever offered their assistance to Mr Bak had resources outside of his country’s jurisdiction. 

He had a feeling the caller knew more than he was telling. If not, they clearly had the means to find out. Sun Bak’s current refuge outside the country came to mind, along with his earlier suspicions of outside interference during her escape from prison. Maybe the same anonymous caller had helped her. 

But why?

There was definitely something larger at play. Probably something so unexpected in a case like Mr Bak’s, that most detectives wouldn’t think to look. An ally with enough resources to rule half the world? _Or,_ he thought, shaking his head as he chuckled (he really had been watching too many cop shows, unrealistic as they may be), _some kind of secret organization, aiming to eradicate people who knew too much._

People like Miss Bak. 

That seemed to be the only lead he could chase at the moment, as ridiculous as it was. Not that he was complaining. What better way to eliminate the fantasy-driven wild speculation than to ask the woman herself? He imagined Miss Bak rolling her eyes, scoffing at what would no doubt be a ludicrous suggestion on his part.

He hoped she would call again.

*

“You said you have good news, son?” asked Shiro. 

Mr Kabaka and Amondi had gone to bed. Capheus and his mother settled themselves into the velvety brown couches in the spacious living room of the Kabakas’ new vacation home on the outskirts of Nairobi. He could hear birds chirping in the trees in the back garden outside, expressing their thanks for the colorful bird houses Amondi had made for them.

Capheus took a deep breath. “It’s Kiira.”

His mother frowned. “What about her, Capheus? You don’t mean -”

“Yes.” A grin broke out, and he bounced a little in his seat, turning to face his mother. “Mama -” he put his hands on shoulder, bringing her closer - “I found Kiira.”

“In London?” her voice trembled, but she mirrored her son’s expression. “She’s in London?”

“She grew up in Cambridge. Raised by English professors,” he added, imagining his baby sister growing up surrounded by stories beyond his imagination. Kiira certainly seemed like someone who craved knowledge when they met. “She is so smart, mama. And beautiful. She takes after you.”

A tear slid down her face. He wiped it away with his palm, still grinning. “I believe there’s parts of your father too,” she said.

He thought about Kiira, all diplomatic smile and raised chin as she greeted her long-lost brother. Her emotions were carefully hidden, though his sensate powers allowed him a few glimpses. She had been so excited to get answers after all these years. The curiosity had certainly reminded Capheus of father.

“There is,” he confirmed. “But that’s not all. She wants to become a doctor, like you did. Well, a brain surgeon.”

“She’s in medical school?” 

“She is.”

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that. Capheus didn’t need to be a sensate to know she had been worried Kiira would grow up like she did: dreams unfulfilled, trapped by circumstances beyond her control.

When his mother spoke again, her voice was quieter. “Is she… happy?”

“She is.”

“That’s all I ever wanted.” He saw a gleam in his mother’s eyes. She was ecstatic, he knew. But also… relieved? Knowing that by giving her up, she didn’t doom her child to a life without hope. That Kiira had been given a chance.

“She’s happy,” he reassured. “She’s doing what she loves. And -” 

He paused, wondering if it was better to leave the rest unsaid. Being a sensate at this time in history made her far from safe, Blockers or not. He had worried about Kiira ever since they said goodbye that day at the café, praying that whatever his cluster and company had planned to do wouldn’t be at the expense of Kiira’s safety.

“You know you can tell me anything, son.”

Capheus chuckled, trying to reduce the tension. “I could never hide things from you.”

“I knew whatever was troubling you was outside of your own life.”

Before he left for London, he had explained everything to his mother as Nomi prepared his travel documents. To his surprise, she had believed him as soon as he mentioned being connected to others in his mind. His maternal grandmother had been the same way, she’d told him. She had disappeared a few months after Capheus was born, never to be seen again. 

After everything his cluster had seen, he was certain BPO would not have been merciful with his grandmother. 

But, his mother had added, just before he’d left for the airport, she had witnessed the bond shared within a cluster, and understood the necessity of his mission. She only hoped they could succeed in their pursuits. 

And they had. More so than he’d imagined.

“Kiira wants to be a surgeon. A brain surgeon. She’s curious about the brain because… Because she’s like me.”

His mother’s frown was back, and she pinched her nose with her fingers, sighing as she leaned against the back of the couch. “You mean -”

“Yes.”

“It’s not safe for her.”

“No,” he admitted. “But she has more experience. She was reborn long before me. One of her cluster is staying us — she used to work with BPO, but as a spy — it’s a long story. What I mean is, Kiira knows her enemies.”

He didn’t tell his mother about Morgan. Kiira had grown up wondering why her birth family had left her, wondering if she was at fault. It made his heart ache to remember she had lost another part of her family, too.

“Why isn’t Kiira staying with you?”

“I asked her to. But she has an internship this summer.” _Working for a man who, based on her suspicions, worked with BPO._ He shook his head, trying to reassure himself that Kiira knew what she was doing. His baby sister could take care of herself. She’d survived on Blockers in London for two years, after all.

“Are you certain she’s safe?”

“Yes. She has Blockers.”

“What wonders a little medicine can do.” She sighed. “But they’re not perfect.”

“I’ll find a way to check in with her when I get back to Paris.”

“Paris? I thought -”

“We had to move hideouts. Several times. But hey -” he leaned back on the couch as well, both of them facing the blank television screen - “I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

She smiled. His optimism was contagious. It was the reason he never lost sight of it. “Tell me then, my wild Zebra. What is Paris like?”

“Well, I’ve only seen the inside of a beautiful apartment. And the view from the window seemed lovely. Very different from how it was on TV.” He laughed. “Maybe when this is over I can see it properly.”

“You should. Once you become president you won’t have much time.”

“The debate.” He sighed. “Mama, is it crazy to think that all of this -” he gestured to the well-furnished house, to the new suit that Mr Kabaka had hung near the body-length mirror in preparation for his public appearance tomorrow - “that all of this feels so unreal? I never thought I would be a leader. Much less part of a group that’s trying to overthrow a power we haven’t even fully understood.”

“You always said you wanted to live like you were in a movie,” his mother pointed out.

“I guess I am. People already call me Van Damme.”

That made her laugh. They sat together in silence after this, her arm around his shoulder, eyes closed, ears tuned in to the sound of leaves rustling outside. It was a little tradition they’d started since they had moved to Nairobi. Sometimes it was nice to sit still and see where his mind could wander off to. 

He thought about Zakia and Jela. Mr Kabaka had arranged for them to visit tomorrow. He’d have to tell them about everything, but maybe not now. Maybe it could wait until after his speech. But he did not need to worry about that yet. He just wanted to live in the moment.

Like he had always done.

But something had changed in the last few weeks. Maybe it was the election, the way people in Kibera put more trust in him than he knew what to do with. Or maybe it was seeing a member of his cluster under BPO’s clutches, spending days preparing for a rescue mission they knew they could not afford to lose. 

His bodyguards had informed him a few hours ago that BPO’s had been sending their resources to Kenya and two other destinations — Bug had found that out while he was monitoring BPO’s vehicles, and Mavis had passed on the message through her Veracity contacts. He had to be careful. And keep his friends' family safe, too.

Capheus used to wish he had Jean Claude’s powers. But now he had come to realize there was a pressure that came with being undefeated. There was a pressure knowing each fight could be his last.

Van Damme always came back. People counted on him to save the day. Capheus dreaded to think what would have happened if he didn’t.

*

 _Mavis,_ said a young woman’s voice in the back of her mind. _Mavis._

She turned in her bunk bed, slowly, careful not to rattle the hinges lest she woke the other people sharing the room. Sleep hadn’t come so easily to her for the last two years, but that night she had somehow managed to drift off as soon as her head hit the pillow. Perhaps the latest discovery from their friend Bug had reassured her of her newfound allies’ control over the situation. Planning out the next step should be easier now.

 _Wha -_ she mumbled, hoping she didn’t say it out loud.

 _Bad time, I know, but I couldn’t make my Blocker wear off faster,_ Kiira thought back, sounding fully awake. Mavis chuckled. They really had been Blocked from each other for too long. She’d nearly forgotten how big a night owl Kiira was.

The woman in question appeared at the foot of the bed then, sitting cross-legged with a book in her lap — _The Secret of the Old Clock_ , the first _Nancy Drew_ book. Mavis smirked at the coincidence. Her hair was a full afro, loosened from the puffs she’d wear during the day, and it bobbed a little as she turned her head and scanned the room. Kiira smirked as she took in the forms of Sun and Felix passed out on the bottom bunks. 

Mavis sat up and draped the blanket over both of them. They cuddled into each other, shoulders bumping. _If you were hoping to talk to Capheus,_ she thought, yawning, _he just left for Nairobi. Debate with Mandiba. Sorry._

“Well, yes -” there was a hint of disappointment in her voice, but she shook her head - “but there’s more. It’s about Dr Thorsten.”

_The shady surgeon guy?_

“Yes.” She laughed. “He’s back from abroad, and he wanted to check on my work progress. I’ve arranged to meet with him in his office.”

 _Make sure you bring a weapon,_ was Mavis’ response. And, at her smirk - _I’m_ serious _, Kiira. He could be a spy or something._

“It would be highly unlikely for him to have figured out my identity as a sensate,” she said. “But I suppose the possibility should be taken into account.”

_What if you bring a lookout?_

“Also a viable option. I was wondering if I should keep my mind _open_ for this meeting, if you know what I mean.”

 _What if he’s a Headhunter too?_ Mavis pointed out.

“It would be a necessary risk, though if that is the case, I highly doubt he would go about his routine outside of BPO without taking a Blocker. I believe we can get more information if both of us are present.”

 _Fair enough,_ she concurred. _Two minds against one should work in our favor._

“The meeting is tomorrow. Dr Thorsten claims he’s preoccupied at the moment.”

Mavis perked up. _Actually, Nomi’s hacker friend found out where BPO’s next attack might be. Well, next_ three _attacks. We don’t know which place they’re gonna start with._

Kiira cringed. “Blimey, they sure are in a rush.”

 _Yeah. I think they just wanna throw us off. Hate to admit it’s sort of working, though._ And _your supervisor’s been busy too. Gee, I wonder if it could be related._

“Very likely, I think.” Kiira nodded, frowning. “Perhaps he helped prepare the lobotomized soldiers. Or he’d control them, if he’s a Headhunter.”

_For our sake, Kiira, I really hope he isn’t._

A solemn nod. “Only one way to find out.”


	17. Love, like art, must always be free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang finally settles down, then several people land themselves in danger.
> 
> “Love is not something we wind up, something we set or control. Love is just like art: a force that comes into our lives without any rules, expectations or limitations. Love, like art, must always be free.”  
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn't Let You Say Goodbye"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special shoutout to Lyn (@Nadjanator) who helped me with the Thai endearments. Check out her story - it's mesmerizing :)
> 
> And some more shameless self-promotion: I post sneak peeks on my twitter account @ch1toinfinity under the tag #VeracitySense8, if you like mini one-line spoilers. I also finished a Sense8 Coloring Series recently and I posted that, too, in case you were wondering why this update's a little later than usual. (Well, that, and the usual procrastination.)

******July 17, 2017**

“Is it time?” came the Professor’s voice through the phone.

Veronika watched the sunrise in her office in Southwark, when the street lights were dimmed but the roads were still empty. The buildings were dull browns and grays against the orange sky, asleep except for the security guards stationed at the front doors. A fresh beginning. She was here to witness the wakening.

“It’s time.”

A couple patters and clicks from the other end. And then, “It has been done.”

“The news channels have been notified?”

“Yes, Veronika,” said Bernard Kolovi. “The brain scans, the genetic data… Everything.”

“Everything,” she repeated, shedding her black trench coat to reveal a turquoise blouse underneath, ironed flawlessly at the seams — her battle suit, coupled with a black pencil skirt, a stark contrast to the dark crimson of her lips. The same armor she wore on the day she took over the office. “Everything will fall into place.”

“You’re certain the other half can wait?”

A chuckle, the sound of a steel dart piercing the center target. “No need to inform the press of the full story yet. Give people time to put two and two together, Bernard. Not every species respond well to change.”

“Given my knowledge of evolutionary history, I am inclined to agree.”

Him and his scholarly ways. She couldn’t help but smirk. “There are more pressing matters at hand. Have you paid a visit to the Chicago headquarters?”

“I just finished speaking to the Supervisor.”

“Good.” 

“May I ask why you want to appoint more men as stakeouts?”

She made a small hum. “The Archipelago is a vast trading network. It would be better to nip the Blocker trades in the bud before another round of Blockers can be distributed. Catch the traders, instead of the buyers.”

“An efficient strategy as always,” he remarked. “We catch a few, and we gain access to all of their connections.”

“Precisely.” 

Catching sensates wasn’t a matter of rounding up the most bodies, she’d learned from her experience. It was a matter of identifying the root of the problem and working her way up. And in this case, the root of the problem lie in the sensates’ access to Blockers, means of hiding from her prying eyes.

A pause. Then, “There’s more to your plan, isn’t there?” he observed.

“You know me too well.”

“Let me guess. Replacement traders?”

“I prefer the term _infiltration_. But yes. The Archipelago is a system that relies on trust, rather than benefit. You and I both know these arrangements can be rather unstable.”

“The problem with an oversized population,” he remarked. “It would be nearly impossible to distinguish the allies from the outsiders. You’d think sensates would have learned by now.”

If only their mind connections had net capacities. But who was Veronika to complain, when this flaw of _Homo sensorium_ worked in her favor?

“No matter,” she told him. “All we need to do is wait. I have no doubt the apprehended men will have valuable information on their clients’ whereabouts.”

“And the replacement pills are in production, I presume?”

“Reciphorum in capsules?” she smirked, even though he couldn’t see. “Not even close to a real challenge. Our scientists finalized the formula weeks ago. All the new products had been distributed to the infiltration volunteers yesterday.”

“Perfect timing.”

She looked out her window again. The sun was rising, a bright orb underneath thick gathers of purple-gray clouds. A few people strolled along the sidewalk, unaware of the change in the world that was to come.

“You’re right, Bernard,” she said. “It is.”

*

To Dani’s frustration, Felix excused himself from the kitchen after breakfast. 

Usually he’d have stayed and had a little chat with her, bottles of liquor in hand as they’d ruminate over the loss of their relatively less life-threatening formal lives. This morning he’d flashed her his usual toothy grin as she’d tried to make light conversation. He’d laughed at her jokes and nodded at the right times. But she could tell his mind was elsewhere by the daze in his eyes. 

She was a little jealous of Lito. BPO or not, his powers could sure come into handy.

Wolfgang had stayed behind to help clean up, and when Kala went downstairs to the basement lab to work on her anti-Blocker formula, she and Wolfgang found themselves alone. Except for the occasional laughter echoing from upstairs, where Damien and Leon were locked in a fierce game of Mario Kart.

He furrowed his brows as he scrubbed the coffee stain on the counter with a towel. He was lost in thought, too, she could tell. Though she supposed his preoccupations were of a more romantic nature, judging by the way the corners of his lips ticked as he smirked at nothing in particular, a mannerism she believed he picked up from Felix, though the other man’s smirk would have been much dopier.

Felix had told her they were tight like brothers. And the more she observed them, the more they acted like family. It was their bond that made Dani want to get to know Felix, despite his damsel-rescuer façade, before she’d gotten to see the guy behind the tall tales.

Which also meant that if anyone knew why Felix was acting odd, it would be Wolfgang.

The man in question looked up then, and she raised an eyebrow, giving him a meaningful look as she walked over to the sink, knowing he had followed. As he rinsed out the coffee stain on the towel, he turned to her, waiting for her to speak.

“Felix is avoiding me.”

A shrug. “Why do you say that? He talked to you.”

“Yeah, but it’s not -” 

She paused, searching for the right words. What exactly was different from the last time he’d spoken to her? When he had snuck up behind her, and she’d shrieked because he had scared the crap out of her and -

_Oh._

“Is he - did I scare him off?”

“It’d take a lot more to make Felix scared.”

That, she did know. He had marched into a battle against BPO with a group of strangers he barely knew. And he’d never hesitated to take another shot whenever they drank together, even when he was clearly smashed beyond repair.

“But he’s not himself. He’s not telling me how you two… I don’t know, outran the security guards at a high-end pub. Something crazy like that. Or something about rescuing damsels.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up a little at that. It was the first time she’d seen him smirk without Kala present. “That’s not what really happened.”

“I _know_. But the point is, he’s not even trying to brag anymore.”

He frowned. She could tell he deduced something was off, too. “Since when?”

“He hasn’t really talked since yesterday morning. Well, he sort of snuck up on me when I was doing the dishes and I said he scared the hell out of me. And then he just… left. Said he needed to pack.”

Wolfgang was silent, but just for a second, his eyebrow ticked, and his eyes widened when she mentioned her reaction. And then his expression became stoic again. Unreadable. 

“I know I sort of freaked out, but I thought he was -” she blurted out the words, then stopped, cursing herself for letting it slip. For a moment, she’d thought she was back home, talking to Lito and Hernando. Not in a safe house in Paris with a large group of strangers on the run. As if her life wasn’t already complicated enough -

Before she could say anything else to change the topic, he said, “I know.”

“You - what?”

“It’s the connection. We know everything.”

“Oh.”

 _Everything_. Her chest felt a little lighter when she heard that. Was it a relief, knowing they all knew so much about her, but they hadn’t treated her any differently? Was she glad she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone in case -

But then - 

She remembered that Lito hadn’t told her or Hernando anything about his cluster-mates until they’d arrived in London and started asking questions. Maybe Wolfgang hadn’t told Felix. Maybe Lito’s whole cluster had some sort of pact, an unspoken agreement that they’d keep what they knew about each other’s lives to themselves.

“Felix doesn’t know,” he explained, giving her a pause. Right. Sensates seemed to have a way to guess what she and the other _sapiens_ were thinking, too. She thought she’d have gotten used to this mind-reading business by now, Blockers or not.

She didn’t know whether she liked that Felix hadn’t seen that side of her past, but that wasn’t something she could share with Wolfgang. So instead, she said, “On the plane, when Lito was trying to explain his connection to us, he told me you were there. When he rescued me from Joaquín.”

“It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she insisted. “Thank you.”

“No one deserves that.”

She sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah. He was a real piece of work.”

Silence. She knew Wolfgang wasn’t much for talking, but maybe a moment of reflection was what she needed, too.

She thought about the day Lito came to her rescue. There was something different about the way Lito had looked at Joaquín before he’d thrown that final punch. Or maybe it was Wolfgang standing in his place. She had never seen Lito glare at anyone with that dagger-sharp gaze outside a movie set, and it was a look she’d always remember. It was a look of loathing mixed with vengeance she had yet to understand, though she’d tried to convince herself that Lito was just trying to impersonate the heroes he played, dirty looks and all.

“Joaquín was an asshole,” she said, more to herself than to him. Then, as he turned to face her, “That was in the past. But it’s not something you forget.”

A curt nod. As she straightened herself and made a move to leave, he said, “No, it’s not.”

There was something about his tone, a certainty, that made her suspect he wasn’t just agreeing with her out of sympathy. Intrigued, she watched him as he turned back to the dishes still in the sink, and the brief flicker of emotion was back, even if he’d tried to hide it by turning away. It wasn’t exactly anger. There was no rage behind his expression. Only a quiet, unfading sense of loathing.

 _You’re not the only one who came from a family of criminals,_ Felix had told her that morning on the patio in Kala’s flat. Lito had told her about Wolfgang’s family’s involvement with Russian gangs. Perhaps there was more to his past, a secret neither of them felt the right to divulge. 

The first day Felix joined their mission, he’d jumped at the first chance to help out in Wolfgang’s rescue. She’d been intrigued by the protective instinct underneath all that over-the-top flamboyance. It almost seemed like he believed he was the only person capable of keeping his best friend safe.

But she knew better than to ask Wolfgang about his past, so she uttered another small _thanks_ and left the kitchen. She made her way to the garden, not entirely mindful of where she was strolling. _Maybe_ , she thought, shaking her head as she let out a sigh, _yesterday I’d scared him more than he’d scared me._

She wondered if Felix was starting to suspect there was more to her past. And if so, she wondered if he was trying to keep her safe, too. Somehow.

*

Amazing homemade pad thai was one of the things Riley least expected to encounter on the run. But she could hardly resist the temptation when Georgina and Henrik, the last two hosts of the Paris safe house, insisted on giving “the hero cluster” a little taste of Gina’s signature dish. A blessing to the house, according to Leon.

The woman in question was tall and toned, raven-haired with a sun-kissed complexion. Her half-Thai, half-Australian heritage had given her the advantage of mastering twice the number of recipes. The couple stood next to each other, one person per skillet as they tweaked the two recipes to cater to all tastes: chicken and vegetarian, the safest two options when one found themselves seeking refuge with company from all over the world. 

Henrik’s shoulders were slightly hunched — as the tallest person in the house, he towered over everyone, and the furniture was far from friendly with his height. As Riley sat there and tried her best to memorize their recipes by observation, Gina reached across the stoves for the bowl of crushed chili peppers with a sly smile, crooking her elbow to brush against Henrik’s torso in the process. 

His face flushed upon the contact, salmon pink against his fair skin. Riley could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

On the first day, she’d learned that the Dutch man was extremely ticklish, an unfortunate trait that made him an easy target for his cluster-family. And his large body mass only made things worse. Another thing she had learned was that Gina took delight in teasing her vulnerable partner. 

“Cheer up, _Jaobaan_ ***** ,” she said as she ran her fingers through the blond waves atop his head that never seemed to stay put, “we’ve got company.”

Henrik turned and gave Riley a sheepish smile. “She’s bullying me, you can tell, yes?” 

She gave him a nod. Their never-ending display of affection coupled with endearments in Thai always brought a smile to her face. “I can tell.”

As if he wanted to prove her point — and he might have known what she was thinking, as the hosts had no need for Blockers inside the house — Henrik ducked down and pecked Gina on the forehead. He gestured to the fridge by her side. “Pass me the tofu, _ja_ ******?”

They spoke mostly in English, mindful that they could not share knowledge of their own languages with other clusters and _sapiens_ , but words from their collection of languages weaved their ways into the hosts’ everyday vocabulary. Even the accents they used in their minds had started rubbing off on each other.

“None of you are allergic to peanuts?” Gina asked, adding a dash of sesame seed oil as a finishing touch. 

Riley shook her head. 

“Right.” She poured a few spoonful of crushed peanuts from a tin that sat on the counter, stirring the crunchy bits into the noodles with an oversized pair of chopsticks. “That’s good to know. Last thing we wanna do is end up at a hospital.”

“You haven’t been in two years?”

“Well -” Henrik said, exchanging a look with Gina - “not to a hospital, no. But Damien broke his arm a few months ago, and Miki didn’t know how to mend bones. We had to find a retired sensate doctor in Lyon to treat him.”

At Riley’s look of sympathy, Gina added, “Lil’ bugger tried to slide off the rails on the stairs. He fell, of course. But we thought the cast oughta be punishment enough.”

Riley couldn’t help but smile at the way the couple talked about the boy like he was their misbehaving son. At twenty-three, most people would have been worrying about starting new careers, but this cluster had settled into a routine, a domestic lifestyle with a side of very interesting house guests. It was a consolation to know, despite the fear of BPO looming over every sensate’s existence, that it was still possible for people like Gina and Henrik to enjoy the little moments that made their incognito lives worth living.

This was once the kind life Riley imagined she would have with Magnus, a life filled with children’s laughter and domestic bliss. She buried the thought before either of the hosts could latch on to her lingering grief. It was much easier now, she realized, to push away the image of the family she could have had. 

A year ago she would have scolded herself for betraying her husband and daughter’s memory. But now? She wasn’t sure she could ever be free of the pain, but the guilt seemed to have subsided, and in its place was an anticipation for a future free of hiding, free of the prying minds of Headhunters. 

She imagined Will waking up next to her in a large bed with a too-soft mattress, wrapped in a bathrobe that had shrunk after they’d left it in the dryer for too long. It would be wonderful to finally visit Chicago without any lingering paranoia of being caught. Maybe they’d make a home there. Will could be a cop again, and her papa could visit every time his orchestra had a concert in America.

It wasn’t until a winking Gina pushed a plate of mildly spiced chicken pad thai underneath her nose that Riley realized she had been lost in a daydream of what could be. 

*

The bedroom Lito shared with his family looked like a jungle.

A jungle of dark green leaves with red stems, partially obstructed by what looked like a sandy orange whirlwind. The sandstorm was painted with vibrant colors and a distinct texture. Leon had told them he’d pasted a layer of real sand from a beach in the south of France to create the impression of a jungle in the desert.

Lito liked to watch Hernando examine the art. Even after spending three days at this new safe house, he could still discover little details about the mural that anyone else would have missed: a slight twirl of the paintbrush that made the leaf hang a little limp from the branch, a chunk of red that has a blue rather than brown undertone in a particular shaded area near the corner…

“I think the furniture and bedding is selected to complement this jungle-like impression,” he said to Lito that afternoon, after he’d finally finished asking Gina questions about her pad thai recipe. “This particular shade of orange -” he pointed to their pillowcase - “resembles a rising sun. It has a red undertone instead of yellow, not too bright so that it takes your attention away from the art itself. And you can tell this scene on the mural is meant to take place at around dawn.”

Lito noted the way Hernando’s eyes lit up whenever he talked about art. “How?” he asked, walking up to examine the wall, putting an arm around Hernando’s shoulder. “How is it that you know so much?”

With a smug smile, Hernando gestured to an area with an abundance of dark-leaved trees. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckles. “The angle of the shadow underneath the trees. If it’s around midday -” he traced the lines with his finger hovering in the air, careful not to graze the artwork itself - “the shadows wouldn’t drag on for this long, see, because the sun would be over the top of everything.”

“Mm.” Lito tried to sound critical, but when Hernando turned to look at him, brows locked in a perplexed frown, he couldn’t hold back his sly grin. “What if it’s the afternoon? Or some time before the evening? We can’t tell which way is east in a painting, can we?”

Hernando crossed his arms, taking on the challenge. “The vibrance of the colors Leon chose would suggest otherwise. They clearly indicate a bright new beginning. If it was nearly dusk, he would have chosen darker colors for the sky. Maybe a dash of purple.”

“Right you are,” said the man in question. “Yes. It takes place in the mornin’.”

Leon was leaning on the doorway, grinning at his visitors. Hernando had been ecstatic when he’d heard about the host cluster’s shared chromesthesia. He’d spent all afternoon asking Leon questions about how his newfound relationship with music had affected the way he understood form, and texture, and motif, and a hundred other professional-sounding words that Hernando had long ago adopted into his everyday vocabulary.

But right now Hernando was standing there, frozen, opening and closing his mouth, looking back and forth between Lito and Leon.

“I wasn’t -” he mumbled in English - “we were speaking Spanish.”

Leon laughed. “We get a lot of Spanish visitors. I picked up a few words.”

“How much did you hear?”

“ _Mañana_. That’s ‘bout it. Gina’s the language expert, not me.”

Lito clapped his hands together. “So -” he started, pushing Hernando by the shoulder until he came face to face with Leon - “why not consult the artist himself, Professor Fuentes? Ask him about his masterpiece, maybe write his biography?”

Hernando clucked his tongue. “Cheeky,” he muttered, clearly only pretending to be annoyed. “Yes, I was wondering if you can explain the symbolism behind the sandstorm? The partial obstruction of the scene of this jungle in the desert — were you hoping to leave others a space for their own interpretations?”

Leon shrugged. “Tell you the truth, mate, I was just tryin’ to feel the music. We were watchin’ _Lion King_ that day. Great songs, _way_ too many colors.”

“So it was a deliberate choice to showcase the red and the green? And the sand-like color of the storm? We don’t see much of the sky here -”

A chuckle. “Honestly, we were just runnin’ low on blue paint. I’m glad you can find some symbolism from it, though. Always nice when someone thinks I’m deep.”

“There appears to be a hidden depth in many of your works.”

Leon beamed. “Right. I like to think so, too. Worked wonders when I made graffiti back in the day. Drop in a few random symbols and watch the audience go bonkers.”

Lito perked up, turning to Hernando with a shit-eating grin. “Graffiti, you say?” he asked, raising a teasing eyebrow. He knew Hernando was, for the most part, a law-abiding citizen who appreciated art in pre-arranged displays.

“My best mate James and I used to find shit-packed places and turn ‘em into art galleries, see -” Leon’s hands flailed about as his voice boomed across the halls - “we’d paint on the brick walls ’n such. Sometimes the pavement, but we prefer walls. We figured, well, the world can always use some more art, right? And the neighborhoods we chose were dodgy. Couldn’t hurt to bring in some color.”

“Interesting.” Hernando said after a moment’s pause. “So for you, art is a matter of accessibility? Letting things be visible to the public eye?”

Leave it to Hernando to analyze the motives of graffiti artists. Lito was a little — just a little — disappointed that Hernando wasn’t taken aback when he’d learned Leon used to deface public property. But, he supposed, no art lover could resist the urge to gawk at every attention-grabbing work out there. And he knew for a fact that Hernando appreciated every bit of art he came across, legal or not.

“Somethin’ like that,” Leon admitted. “We’d get into jail now and then, if the coppers catch us before we could finish. Granddad always used to bail us out. Said they oughta spend their precious time catchin’ real criminals.”

So that’s where Leon got his rebellious spirit from. His grandfather sounded like one of the fun-loving rich men from his films, the ones who’d offer the main character an extra pint at a fancy house party while he was trying to assassinate an evil infiltrator among the ranks. Hell, did everything about his life read like a scene from a movie now? 

Lito had forgotten he wasn’t on Blockers during the day. 

“Mate,” Leon said, turning to face him, “I’m runnin’ a bloody _Sensate Airbnb_ with Lito Rodríguez as my house guest. Can’t get more dramatic than this -”

Hernando mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “welcome to my life.”

“- unless, I dunno, you start keepin’ someone hostage in the basement,” Leon continued. “An enemy. Oh! Someone from BPO with _insider knowledge_.”

“Yeah, well.” Hernando let out a sigh. “We’ve already done that.”

*

Mandiba maintained perfect poise in his black suit as he glared over the stoic audience, daring them to protest as he reached up a steady hand to adjust his tie. Capheus stood behind the podium on the other side of the stage and tried his best not to look too panicked. The lights on the stage made yellow spots dance in front of his eyes and scalded his head like a midday sun in July. His sweaty palms wrinkled the ten pages of notes Zakia had helped him prepare.

He still hadn’t told her about his cluster. The last three days had seen much progress in the way he prepared for his first ever public debate against a well-experienced politician, but amid all his anxiety of facing the masses after a month-long hiatus, he had lost all courage to come clean about why he had spent time abroad. She hadn’t asked. He could tell she trusted him to tell her when he was ready.

His girlfriend sat in the first row, glowing in a lemon yellow saffron dress. His mother had worn a purple shawl she’d made as a mark of support for the KDRP. The two women smiled at him when he turned around to watch them. Next to the women, Amondi beamed and waved with a frantic enthusiasm. And there was Mr Kabaka and Jela’s family… They all wanted to watch him “make history”, per his friend’s exact words.

He felt a slight buzzing in the back of his head, the sign of his Blocker wearing off. There was a tension in his body that made his back straighten, and a tick in the muscles of his right hand, ready to jump to his defense. He didn’t even notice when the host had asked the first question. Thankfully, it seemed to have been addressed to Mandiba.

“Access to clean water has been a challenge for Kibera for many years, yes,” Mandiba said in monotone, like he was reading out headlines of the local news paper to a random person on the street. “But the system that allows for the transport of clean water needs economic support. And there is a high demand for this resource. It would be reasonable to make a profit from this transaction, to ensure quality service.”

The host turned to Capheus. “What are your thoughts on this, Mr Onyango?”

The first question and Mandiba’s response almost seemed too predictable. Capheus would have broken into a grin if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s eyes had turned to him. The perfect rebuttal was highlighted and bolded on the first page, but this time round he didn’t even need to consult his notes. “The clean water provided in Kibera is not a service. It is a business that reaps a profit from every transaction.”

He watched Mandiba’s lips curl into a thin line as he shook his head slightly. Turning back to the audience, Capheus carried on speaking. “The price — the demand — is too high. This system would gain no support if the citizens are unhappy.”

Applause. A few members of the audience in the middle even let out a whoop.

“Forgive me for saying this, Mr Onyango,” Mandiba started again, and from the inflection in his voice, Capheus knew he was withholding a sneer, “but a common citizen would not understand the resources, the money and the labor, that it would take to run a well-established system that provides for the masses. To believe otherwise would be a sign of idealism. A common mistake amongst young politicians.”

Capheus didn’t notice his cluster had appeared next to him until he heard Nomi let out an indignant gasp upon Mandiba’s none-so-subtle insult. Zakia was frowning, too, as she exchanged a look with his mother. They had expected dismissals, but they’d assumed it would have been buried underneath layers of convoluted lies and obscurities.

Nonetheless, Mandiba had underestimated the perks of a fresh perspective. “It would appear that our current system is a tried-and-true method,” Capheus agreed. “But all significant changes in history were driven by idealistic beliefs at the start. Perhaps a new alternative way of gaining access to clean water is what Kibera needs.”

Mandiba made a sound between a sniff and a cough. Capheus suspected he was holding back a snort. “At what cost? Mr Onyango, are you proposing that we sacrifice all of Kibera’s resources on a project that may never result in notable change?”

He swallowed back the urge to answer the question that was asked. Mr Kabaka had told him to answer questions with a different question. “What changes would I bring to Kibera by allowing the system to run as it is? By not addressing an issue that has clearly impacted the citizens’ lives for many years, that will impact their lives for many years to come, if no one takes initiative?”

If he could see behind podiums, he would probably have found Mandiba clutching his fist. “Considering the current economic status of this neighborhood,” Mandiba said louder than before, trying to bring reassurance by assuming an air of confidence, “I believe uncertainty would prove to be catastrophic -”

Someone started screaming in the crowd. 

It was too bright on stage to make out the faces of the people in the back rows. All Capheus could see were silhouettes ducking down, hiding behind chairs. Some people dashed toward the ropes that separated the reception areas from the parking spaces.

“Everyone, stay calm!” the host tried to shout, but no one appeared to have heard.

Then there were gunshots.

The host screamed, dropped the microphone and dashed back to hide behind the curtains that shielded the backstage from the public eye. Armed bodyguards escorted Capheus’ family and friends out of the audience and into a black van that he had seen in Mr Kabaka’s garage, but the crowd became nothing more than a stampede of terrified citizens as they trampled over fallen chairs. And, Capheus noticed with a pang, fallen _bodies_.

“Take cover!” Will shouted as he pushed Capheus down by the shoulders. He squatted behind the podium, trembling as his hands tried to grab onto something, anything, other than air. Judging by the sound of a bullet swooshing past the top of the podium a second later, he was lucky to have ducked when he did.

Capheus turned his back against the podium and saw armed guards rushing to his aid from backstage, trying to dash while they kept their bodies as low as they could. The man in the front tossed him one of the guns he held, and with a well-practiced catch, Capheus got hold of the weapon, switching out the safety as his finger pressed against the trigger, which was slipping under a layer of sweat.

The voice next to his ear was calm, decisive, unmistakable. “Let me,” said Wolfgang, taking over his body before he could utter another word.

Then he was peeking over the podium, aiming his gun at a man who was scanning the audience for remaining victims. The man’s clothes were unassuming, like he’d acquired them from a local market. Really, he would have made it through the entire debate unnoticed if it weren’t for three things. One was the guns he held in his hands. Two, the controlled, nearly robotic way in which he took every step. 

And three? The unmistakable horizontal scar that ran across the front of his forehead.

Wolfgang pulled the trigger. Capheus didn’t realize he had until he saw the Bolger crumple to the ground to join his victims. And then two Bolgers rose from the corpses, as if they had been lying low, preparing to make their move when the first hitman went down. The guards came to his rescue and whisked him away before before Wolfgang could aim at the other Bolgers. He heard the guards pull triggers as he ran.

And then all was quiet except for the sound of two more bodies hitting the ground.

*

“You’re cold,” said Wolfgang.

It was not a question. Blue eyes bore into brown as he took hold of her cold fingertips, and she smiled at the warmth flowing from his hands.

“I’m alright,” said Kala, tugging his arm so he could inch closer to her as they walked. “I just didn’t expect Paris to get so chilly at night.”

They were making their ways down the stone pavement in the quaint little area where Rajan had purchased her Paris flat. She had hoped to never return to this place, to the reminder of the secrets she had kept from her husband. But Ganesha must have wanted her to confront the truth: a few hours ago Nomi had hacked into the surveillance system in the area to make sure BPO hadn’t found out about their past hideout, only to find Lila Facchini in the area, strolling about in black leather and killer heels.

Nomi also found a small van parked one block away, barely in the camera’s view. Of course Lila didn’t come alone. But neither did they — Wolfgang had taken a new Blocker after Capheus’ debate, but Kala had let hers wear off. Everyone followed close behind them, scanning for any signs of ambush, too paranoid with the new potential danger to process the shock from the attack in Nairobi just yet. 

There was a rustle in a bush nearby. Kala didn’t flinch as she registered Sun’s silhouette. Sun had insisted on coming along as physical protection, dressed in comfy black sportswear that gave her plenty of freedom to fight, should anyone give her a chance. But she was out of earshot. Something told Kala she had intentionally given them privacy to talk.

Wolfgang pulled her close as he turned to face her. “Take this,” he said, stripping off his black bomber jacket. He wrapped it around her shoulders before she could open her mouth to protest. It took all of her self control not to sigh in relief when she realized the jacket was still warm with his body heat.

“No,” she tried to protest, squirming away, but he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and locked her in place. “You’re recovering,” she tried again, a feeble attempt, she knew. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m used to the cold. You’re not.”

She sighed, knowing there was no reasoning with him when he got stubborn. So, with a mock huff of annoyance that fooled no one, she pushed her arms into the sleeves. He pulled up the zipper and smirked when she pointed out it was large enough to pass as an overcoat.

His eyes wide open, he scanned the area again. Then Kala felt him tense. She turned to look in his direction, at the driveway that led to the front door of Rajan’s flat… And came face to face with Lila, who was standing a few paces away.

From his back pocket, Wolfgang pulled out a pistol.

“I’m not here on behalf of BPO,” she said in English, in a mixed accent Kala couldn’t quite place. Kala hadn’t realized she’d only ever heard Lila speak German.

Wolfgang scoffed, pointing the gun in the direction of Lila’s head. She raised her hand in surrender. “I don’t care why you’re here. How did you find us?”

She ignored his question. “You can shoot me now,” she said, quite calm for someone under the mercy of a gun. “But I don’t think you will. I know you, Wolfgang.”

 _You don’t know him,_ Kala wanted to say, but decided to hold her tongue.

As if she could read her thoughts (and Kala realized she very well could), Lila raised an eyebrow. “Is that her?” she asked, looking between the two of them with a smirk. “I can see why you’d want her.”

Silence. 

Kala felt Wolfgang’s arm around her shoulder tense, and she tried not to think about Sun, who was probably trying to sneak up behind Lila. Instead she focused on _rage_ , on the explosion in the restaurant before Lila had nearly shot Wolfgang for not beckoning to her will. She scowled as she imagined all the things she wanted to do.

“I have information,” Lila said, narrowing her eyes at Kala, having picked up her none-so-friendly thoughts. “It would be in our best interest not to kill each other. Yet.”

“Why are you helping us?” asked Wolfgang.

Capheus appeared beside Kala. _Lito’s driving over,_ he whispered, even though Lila wouldn’t have been able to hear. _I’ll help._

A pause, as Lila’s hands clutched into fists. She exhaled before speaking again, “BPO cannot give me what I want.”

“I told you.” Wolfgang seethed. “I’m not interested.”

A dark, hooded silhouette crawled toward Lila, nimble feet tip-toeing on the pavement without making a sound. Kala turned her gaze toward the gun Wolfgang was pointing at Lila, trying to focus her thoughts on his finger around the trigger.

“But the plan’s changed, Wolfgang,” said Lila. “BPO’s not interested in keeping us alive. They’ll kill all the sensates. All of us.”

Sun was right behind her now, arm raised with a syringe of injectable Blocker in hand. She gave them a slow nod. As if on cue, Wolfgang let out a snort, throwing Lila off guard. “They screwed you over, didn’t they?”

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of screeching tires. Kala turned and saw a blur of silver — not the color of the SUV they had taken from the rental facility. The van stopped, and the driver’s window opened to reveal a scraggly man in a woolen hat. No one exited the van from the side door.

“Lils, behind ya!” shouted the man in English, his accent fully Scottish.

Before Lila could see what he meant, Sun had pushed the dose of Blockers into her neck and pinned her arms behind her back. Wolfgang pointed the pistol right at her temple. There was another sound of screeching tires as Lito rounded the corner with their black SUV.

“Stop driving, and do not leave the car,” Sun said loudly, glaring at the man in the silver van. “Or we’ll shoot her.”

Lila turned to look the Scot in the eye. _Go_ , Kala heard her think, the voice in her head barely louder than a whisper as her Blocker started kicking in. _Leave. Get the others._

As the three of them marched Lila over to their black SUV, she tried to kick Sun in the shin and get away, only to be whacked on the back of the head by Wolfgang. She fell limp as she passed out. Felix got out from the passenger’s seat to help haul her in.

No one else was getting out of the silver van. And despite the relief, Kala couldn’t help but wonder where the rest of Lila’s cluster had gone. The silver van was still parked on the other side of the road, and for a second, it looked as if the Scot wanted to come to Lila’s rescue despite what she’d told him.

But then Felix and Wolfgang leapt out of the SUV again, military-grade long rangers in hand, and Lila’s cluster-mate changed his mind and sped away out of sight. All of them got back into the car, ignoring Lila’s form slumped against the left window in the back seat. Wolfgang squeezed himself in next to Lila’s unconscious form before Kala could protest, and Sun went in after him, eyes fixed on their hostage in case she decided to wake up.

“Should we go after them?” asked Sun as Capheus-in-Lito turned on the engine.

Nomi appeared, squatting in the narrow space in front of their legs. “We’ve got her,” she said, nodding at Lila’s limp body. “We can see what the others are up to. If you follow that van, he might be leading you into a trap.”

Nodding, Lito turned the wheel and started driving in the opposite direction, back the way they came from.

*

 _May, I’m here early,_ thought Kiira, nudging Mavis in the back of their shared consciousness. 

Mavis sat up straight in her chair. Around the kitchen island, the people who stayed behind turned to look at her, fully tuned to the ongoing investigation in case anything went wrong. “She’s there early. The doctor guy isn’t there yet.”

_How peculiar._

“What? What is it?”

_I thought Dr Thorsten would be more meticulous. But he hasn’t locked his door._

“The door’s unlocked,” Mavis said to Will, who frowned.

“Sounds like a trap,” he said.

It could very well have been. Mavis knew how BPO operated: a false sense of security was usually their go-to strategy for a capture. “Kiira, are you _sure_ you’re not followed?”

 _Positive. Veracity guards down the hall like you asked. No one else._ And before Mavis could say anything else, _Yes, May, I have considered the possibility that this meeting is a trap. But I believe the benefits outweigh the cost._

Her shoulder tensed. “I sincerely hope you’re right.”

In their mind’s eye, Mavis could make out careful hands pulling out a desk drawer. Inside was a large blue folder labeled _Confidential_. A black corner peeked out from the side. Not a piece of paper; it was made of a thick material that reflected the light on the ceiling.

Kiira was glancing up again. She was checking for approaching footsteps. Hearing none, she turned back to the folder, unhooking the string tied around the clasp. She pulled out a napkin from her pocket. _The fingerprints_ , she thought. _Can’t let him know I’m snooping._

“Look at you being all professional, Miss Anderson,” Mavis said, chuckling. Then, switching her consciousness back to the Paris hideout, she nodded at her allies around the kitchen island and mouthed “she found something.”

When her mind was back in the London office again, she saw Kiira put the napkin over the corner and pull out the page with one hand.

 _An fMRI?_ Kiira’s hand came to a halt as the brain scan revealed itself. The patient’s name on the top right corner had been crossed out with a black sharpie. All they could see was the silhouette of the side of a man’s head. And inside…

“Could it be one of his patients?” asked Mavis.

Kiira went back and pulled out a second scan from the folder, one that gave them a view of the patient’s brain from the top. But it was no ordinary brain. She felt Kiira freeze, still bent over the scans that she laid atop her supervisor’s desk. 

The patient had a merged frontal lobe. A _Homo sensorium_ after rebirth.

“Shit,” Mavis swore. Will’s prodding yanked her consciousness back to Paris again. “It’s a sensate. He’s got a brain scan of a sensate.”

“The frontal lobes -” Nomi started.

“Merged. Yeah,” Mavis said, before shutting her eyes again. 

 _Kiira,_ she called out. _Kiira, I think we’ve seen enough. Fuck. He’s working with BPO. He could be onto you! You should leave._

A nod. _Just a minute._

Kiira started tucking the scans inside the folder again, careful to leave a corner of the first page peeking out the way she found it. Just as she was about to shove the folder back into the drawer, she looked up, checking to make sure no one had come in while she had been standing there wondering just how much of academia BPO had already taken over.

And looked right into the cold gray eyes of Dr Thorsten.

“You’ve always been a curious girl, Miss Anderson,” he remarked, looking at the folder still in her hands. “Inquisitive to a fault. But didn’t your parents teach you not to snoop?”

“I -” Kiira froze. Mavis opened her mouth in her place, trying to come up with a sufficient lie. But how could they possibly come up with a reasonable explanation for this? And the brain scans -

“Or _are you_ Miss Anderson?” he asked, voice calm, thin lips curling into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I can never tell with your species.”

“Sir, I’m afraid I don’t understand -” Mavis tried, but he shook his head, cutting her off as he took a step closer. With a firm hand, he snatched the folder from Kiira’s hands.

Mavis appeared next to Kiira and put a finger against her lips, telling her to stay quiet as she made her way over to the door, tip-toeing although she was perfectly aware Dr Thorsten could not see her.

 _Fuck._ The two guards that accompanied Kiira to the office had disappeared. She didn’t like to think where they could have gone. And in their place stood six men in black uniforms, guns aimed at the direction of Dr Thorsten’s door.

“Don’t lie to me, Grace,” he was saying as Mavis reappeared next to Kiira, shaking her head. _Six guards outside,_ she told her. She felt Kiira’s hands freeze. “Or is it… Kiira? Is that what the K stands for?”

 _We’ll find a way to get you out._ Mavis thought, standing next to her, two against one. Not that it would last. _I’ll - I’ll follow you. I’ll find you._

“Beautiful name. Kikuyu, isn’t it? Like your mother’s tribe.”

“M-my mother is from Cambridge,” Kiira tried again, hoping he didn’t notice the way her voice shook. 

“I’m sorry — I meant your birth mother. I must admit, it took us a few weeks to identify your true date of birth, _Kiira_.”

Mavis knew she was trying not to cringe. She knew Kiira wanted to keep the name just for herself. A token from her past, something only her family and her cluster knew.

“The sixth of June. Do you know who else was born on that day?”

Kiira made a move for the door, but he beat her to it, his wide frame blocking her only entrance and exit. He pulled out a photograph from the pocket of his jacket, a woman in a white blouse with black and blue shoulder-length hair. Someone had taken it on Mavis’ first day working for BPO. It was a remnant of her past she had gladly left inside her locker before she went rogue.

“Mavis Yang is the name she gave. Real name’s Mavis Fowler, according to her real passport. Fitting.” He tutted his tongue. “The sensate who worked with the Hunters.”

Kiira took a deep breath. _Deny it,_ Mavis told her. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Born on the same day as you,” he continued, ignoring her lie. “And I have reason to believe you have a real… _connection_.”

Kiira shook her head. 

“There is one way to find out whether you’re telling the truth, Kiira.”

They were trapped. Mavis knew there was no chance Kiira could escape under the clutches of six armed man plus one doctor, and the office was on the top floor of the building, the windows barred from the outside in case of a burglary. A perfectly reasonable precaution, if only the circumstances had not been in the enemy’s favor.

“I thought,” Kiira replied, gritting her teeth, “the truth serum has not been invented yet.”

He raised an eyebrow at her retort. Mavis gave her a nod, no longer searching for a way out. Anything was better than simply giving in. Stalling gave them time to think of the next move. _Don’t show them you’re scared._

“No, it hasn’t,” the Doctor admitted, “but I have something better.”

He lunged forward, pinning Kiira’s arms behind her back, pressing her face against the wall. She shrieked when she felt a cold needle being pushed into the side of her neck, a numbing liquid worming its way inside her bloodstream, making her senses tingle.

“We have the August 8 cluster to thank for this new and improved version,” Mavis heard him say. His voice sounded like an echo from far away. Her vision was blurring, the London office flickering out of view. 

When she could see again, she was back in the Paris hideout. She let out a sob. Everyone shifted in their seats, exchanging looks of horror.

“They’ve got her,” she said, voice trembling. “They’ve got Kiira.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary:**
> 
> ***** Jaobaan: literally “master of the house” or “host” in Thai, because the name Henrik means “ruler of the home”.
> 
>  ****** Ja: also Thai, connotes a flirty sort of language, but also used in a similar way to “dear”.
> 
> * * *
> 
> *Runs away.*


	18. Sometimes you make a mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the situation gets out of hand, but fix-it plans are made.
> 
> “Sometimes you make a mistake. You’ve got two choices: you live with it, or you fix it.”  
> — From S1E10, “What is human?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the STARS did this chapter get out of hand! I apologize for keeping you all waiting after where last chapter ended. But I hope you can forgive me, because I'm making up for it with this extra long chapter of 10,000 words. You BETTER forgive me. I know you will once you see how THIS chapter ends ;)
> 
> A special shoutout to Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr) for stepping in as my beta when my usual beta is swamped with real life responsibilities, the poor dear! And Sav, you're the best! Go check out their fics!

 

**July 18, 2017**

Capheus told everyone the truth around midnight.

He had told Jela about his sensate connections once, albeit in vague terms. It was enough to convince his friend that a businesswoman in Korea, who had landed herself in prison, could pass on her martial arts skills through telepathy. But he had omitted a very important part of his secret: the fact that an evil organization, under the guise of a non-profit genetics lab, was hunting down people with his unusual brain anatomy.

Zakia, on the other hand, only had a vague idea that Capheus had flown to London to attend to an important matter with foreign friends she didn’t know he had. As a journalist it was her job to seek out the truth. But now that he had told her what he was hiding, Capheus could tell she was trying to come up with some other explanation. But real life demonstrations of power sharing, courtesy of the two Veracity-bound cluster-mates who acted as his bodyguards, could hardly be discredited. 

The performance was met with many slacked jaws and a round of applause from Amondi. 

Capheus dreaded breaking the news to the girl. It wasn’t something a child her age should have been exposed to, but after she’d seen him shoot a Bolger on stage, she started asking questions. Something told him she wouldn’t have believed another lie, even if he did come up with a logically coherent one.

“So you -” Jela croaked, gesturing between the guards, who were blocking the attacks from Mr Kabaka’s hired arms by alternating between two sets of completely different fighting tactics - “this - this is how you fought Superpower?”

“Well, it was all Sun. I didn’t know anything about fighting.”

“A member of your group - your _cluster_ \- helped you _slaughter_ a dozen men while she was physically trapped in a prison cell? All the way in Korea?” Zakia asked after a few moments’ pause. She looked at him before turning back to the tablet on her lap, scrolling through the brain scans and genetics data that some Veracity hackers had sent over.

“I mean - it’s -” Capheus scratched the back of his head - “ _yes_.”

Amondi’s eyes were wide open. “So you became a superhero one day, like Spiderman? _Wow_.”

He gave her a slight grin, though he couldn’t help but notice Mr Kabaka’s stern expressions next to the excited girl. Mr Kabaka was looking out the window, brows furrowed like he was expecting someone to break through the fence that separated the vacation home from the rest of the wealthy, secluded neighborhood. His bodyguards fell into a whispered discussion as the Veracity guards went off to shower after the power demonstration. 

“I didn’t want to tell you. I thought BPO wouldn’t come to Kenya, and telling you would only make you one of their targets,” Capheus said, his voice barely louder than a mumble, but he could tell Mr Kabaka was listening. He plopped down on the couch between his mother and Zakia. “My cluster warned me after I got back, that BPO’s moving resources to Nairobi and a few other places. But -”

“You didn’t expect an attack at your debate.” Zakia finished for him. “And you thought they were mistaken. You were hoping the attack wasn’t going to be in Nairobi at all.”

He turned to her, nodding, and she put her hands over his. It was a comfort to know that she wasn’t mad at him for withholding such a dangerous secret. “I thought they would invest most of their resources in Europe. Or North America -” 

 _And South America_ , he added, recalling the most recent attack before tonight. Come to think of it, they had at least one facility in every continent. Why _wouldn’t_ they target Africa, too?

“- I know now that it was wishful thinking,” he continued, “but I just… I thought these problems wouldn’t be the problems I’d be facing back here.”

It was like coming home after fighting in a world war to lead a civil uprising. In his defense, no one in their right mind would have expected the two wars to overlap. No one would have expected the full impact from the battles to collide with each other and create the worst form of explosion.

“So what do these - these _BPO_ people hope to get out of this attack?” asked Mr Kabaka.

“We think they’re going to blame the attacks on us. On sensates. We don’t know how.”

“Fear,” Mr Kabaka mumbled, still lost in thought as he scrolled through what looked like a list of addresses on his phone. Locations for other secret estates to relocate his family. “They’re exploiting people’s fear. People are going to turn on you.”

Zakia shuffled in her seat. “Do you think BPO may have contacted the media with some kind of evidence?”

He frowned. “Maybe. They have genetic data, brain scans, everything. These shooters today, they weren’t in control,” he repeated, even though he had reiterated BPO’s exploitation of Bolgers countless times throughout his explanation. “They were controlled by other sensates who worked for BPO.”

“BPO’s not going to tell the truth about any of this,” said Zakia. 

Everyone around the room was silent, including Amondi. She’d told Capheus she saw YouTube videos where citizens of Nairobi claimed to have been robbed by Van Damme. _Why do grown-ups lie so much?_ she’d asked on his second day back. He couldn’t give her an answer then. He, too, had been hiding part of the truth.

“At least we’ll be prepared,” Jela reassured, gesturing to the direction where the staircases were. His wife Elena had gone up to settle their kids into a guest room. “Whatever lies the news has to tell, we’ll know the truth about you.”

Capheus nodded at his friend, a quiet appreciation of his loyalty. 

“You’ll have to go back?” his mother asked, though it looked like she already knew.

He made eye contact with Mr Kabaka. “You’ll have to relocate,” he said. Mr Kabaka sighed. “It’s best if I don’t know the new address. I’ll leave tomorrow.” He turned to the Veracity guards. “They can escort me.”

His mother opened her mouth to say something, but instead she shook her head, wished him good night, and, along with everyone else, started heading upstairs. No one would have been able to sleep soundly. But they all wanted to pretend they could.

“Come back to me,” said Zakia. “I want to hear the full story. The real story.”

A smile, his first real smile that day. “You better help us tell the truth to the press.”

“I’ll be honored,” she whispered, giving him a peck on the lips before she joined everyone else going upstairs.

When he thought everyone else had cleared out of the living room, he settled down on the couch again, welcoming the chance to ponder things over. But, to his surprise, Amondi popped back into the living room, sat down next to him, and tapped his shoulder.

“You said these bad people have superpowers, too?” she asked, leaning in like they were sharing a secret. But the frown etched on her face was something he had never seen before. It may very well have been the first time she realized the full extent of the danger she was in. The danger _he_ was in. “It’s going to be hard, isn’t it?”

Capheus nodded. But the smile he had given Zakia lingered on the corners of his mouth. A means of reassurance, more for her sake than his. “Some of them, yes. But you know what, Amondi? We have something they don’t have. A secret weapon.”

She lowered her voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. “What is it?”

He remembered how his cluster had stood behind him as he gave his speech. At that moment he’d felt powerful, even if the rational part of his brain had tried to make him second guess his decision to run for office. The eight of them had had pretty good luck making their ways out of impossible situations so far. Maybe, just maybe, the universe was granting them a favor. 

“A good heart.” 

*

_Breaking news: Unidentified epigenetic factors result in mutation of frontal lobe. Doctors recommend physical check-up for early signs of disease. Symptoms include: hallucination, migraine…_

It was two in the morning. Around the living room, no one made a sound as all eyes fixed on the TV screen, where the reporter was showing fMRI scans of people with merged frontal lobes. After they’d locked Lila into a windowless room in the basement with an ensuite bathroom, the cluster and company were reminded of the fact that several things had gone horribly wrong in one night.

It didn’t help that Capheus had lost touch with them. Under Will’s suggestion, he’d taken another Blocker on his ride back to the Kabakas’ vacation home. They’d decided not to break the news of Kiira’s capture until they at least had an idea of where she could be.

Right now no one knew which of the problems they should agonize over. They had deduced a long time ago that Veronika planned to reveal the existence of sensates to the world. Though not like this. But why was this even a surprise, considering what else they’d learned about Veronika over the past weeks?

“They’re trying to stigmatize us,” said Nomi. “They’re putting a label on us. _Mutation_. No one wants anything to do with a disease.”

Next to her, Amanita clutched her hands tight. “They’re gonna pull more of this shit. Next time they’ll say it’s a freaking _violent_ mutation or something. You said they were gonna blame the attacks on sensates, Noms?”

Nomi nodded.

“There’s gonna be another attack,” said Lito. 

“But _when_?” asked Kala. “BPO won’t give us time to prepare. How soon?”

“People are scared now.” Lito pointed to the TV screen, where the reporter had moved on to the attack in Nairobi, showing a footage of people screaming as they scrambled to get away. “What if — and I know I’ve only seen this in movies but it makes sense, that’s how the villains make people so terrified — what if there’s another massive attack _right after_.”

Amanita thought about it. “Like, _now_?”

“Sure. Could be today. Or tomorrow, or maybe two days later, in another part of the world where people don’t expect this. Everyone’s gonna panic. They’re gonna think this -” Lito gestured at his cluster-mates around the room - “this ‘disorder’ is making people go _loco_.”

“It makes sense.” Will said, turning to Nomi. “Bug said there’s two other cities where he found BPO vehicles coming in? Berlin and… where else?”

She typed a few words into her laptop. “Beijing, he thinks. But wait -” a few more windows opened up, and Nomi inched her face closer to the screen as she scrolled through the interfaces, her well-practiced hand gliding across the trackpad - “he’s sending in some lists. Train schedules?” she paused, frowning. “ _Oh._ Shit.”

Will walked behind the couch where she was sitting and peeked over her shoulder to look at the screen. “What? What is it?”

“Train bookings. They’re transferring passengers to Shanghai, by the looks of it. Just bought the tickets.” At everyone’s puzzled expressions, she added, “Bug kept a tag on the people he saw traveling in BPO the vehicles, the ones he suspects are Bolgers.”

“The next attack might be in Shanghai?” asked Kala.

Mavis, who had been silent since she’d witnessed Kiira’s capture, spoke up from the corner where she sat. “They’ll control them from the facility in Beijing. Usually works better if they’re kind of close, not halfway across the world.”

Will turned to her. “You mean the Bolgers?”

“Yeah. A sensates can wear one of those EEG-caps and control Bolgers from somewhere else. I’ve seen it done before.”

“Beijing _and_ Shanghai?” Felix croaked. “ _Fuck_. What about Berlin?” he asked, turning to Nomi, who was looking up something else from her laptop now, her frown deepening as she zoomed into what looked like a surveillance footage. “Your hacker friend guy said there’s people heading to Berlin too, right?”

Mavis thought about it. “They could be attacking Berlin first. In that case they’d control Bolgers from the London facility.”

After a few moments’ silence, Nomi jumped from where she sat, nearly dropping her laptop on the floor. But Amanita caught it just in time. “What is it, Noms?”

Nomi turned the screen so everyone could see. It was a grainy surveillance footage from a camera in Heathrow Terminal Three, but the two people sitting in front of the gate were unmistakable: a blond, butch man and a young woman in afro puffs. Karl Pelzer’s eyes were fixed on Kiira, daring her to make a run for it.

“Gate 52E,” said Nomi, scrolling through her phone now. “A flight to Beijing. Boarding in five minutes.”

*

That morning, all the employees at the BPO Chicago facility gathered in the atrium for the announcement, fully dressed in stark white Hazmat suits. No one uttered a word as the Professor instructed them to remove their masks.

Professor Kolovi took note of the blue and black name tags of the employees; sensates and _sapiens_. In BPO they worked together in true obligate mutualism fashion, the way Dr El-Saadawi intended. But all he could see was how the blues of the sensate tags stuck out like weed in a fern garden. 

The sensate employees knew they were outnumbered. If evolutionary history had taught the Professor anything, it was that humans had the capacity to do the unexpected if their life hung in the balance. _In extremis_ was real. And right now the sensates were desperate as ever.

“You are probably all wondering why you are here,” he started, his voice calm, echoing in the atrium. “And don’t worry. I don’t plan to let you leave this meeting without answers.”

He turned to his left and waved. The two guards in black nodded upon his cue. They opened the door behind them and pushed in a chair on which a young man in his early twenties sat bound by black cords, his back stiff against the back of the chair as his fingers tapped against the armrest. His mouth was taped over; the Professor could make out a few muffled syllables, desperate attempts to plead his case.

“Here in BPO, our most important value is loyalty. Loyalty to the cause. Loyalty to the orders which you were given. But Carter here -” he gestured to the man as the guards pushed his bound chair on stage - “believed the best way to serve this organization was by distributing our products before they were ready to hit the market!”

He heard a few people snicker in the crowd. 

“Yes, a ridiculous notion. But alas, this poor man was driven by delusions. He believed the best way to assist our research was by providing sensates around the world with a means to hide from us.”

Carter glared. Professor Kolovi chuckled.

“In case any of you were still unclear -” he called out to the now murmuring crowd - “no, that is _not_ the purpose of our Beta Blockers.”

Some people laughed.

“They are meant to offer a barrier against the mental distractions some of you inevitably experience. To assist the sensates among us — the Headhunters, researchers, _and_ assistants — in the gathering of genetic data.”

A man in the front with a blue name tag raised his hand, the rehearsed cue for the next part of the demonstration. The Professor gestured for him to speak. 

“What happens if we abuse our Blocker privileges?”

“I am glad you asked.”

The guards brought out a wall of white canvas and placed it behind the stage like a backdrop. Professor Kolovi reached inside the pocket of his suit and pulled out a pistol. And aimed it at Carter’s forehead.

“Oh, just a quick warning,” he turned back and said into the microphone, keeping his tone light, nonchalant. “Things might get a little… Bloody.”

Carter’s eyes widened. He shook his head with a frantic desperation, convulsing in his seat as he rattled back and forth. The wheels of his chair jiggled under the movement of his thrusting body. That made the Professor smirk. He’d spent his academic career studying the impact of interspecies mass-genocide, believing it was a thing of the past, never to be repeated once threats like _Homo asiaticus_ and _naledi_ had been eliminated. 

But then he’d learned about _Homo sensorium_.

This planet had limited resources. And as harsh as it may have sounded to amateurs outside of his field, keeping other species in check was key to the survival of _Homo sapien_. Perhaps an all-around elimination of _Homo sensorium_ wasn’t necessary. He saw the merit of Dr El-Saadawi’s argument for the interdependence of both species. 

But, he reminded himself as he switched off the safety and pulled the trigger, this was a world of competition. And it would be in his best interest for _Homo sapien_ to assert their dominance in society before _Homo sensorium_ beat them to it. Lila’s cluster had come a little too close to doing just that.

He wanted to study the way sensates interacted as a species outside of society’s awareness. It would have been hard to do so if he was dead.

In the atrium, all was quiet except for the sound of the gunshot.

Carter fell limp as soon as the bullet penetrated his skull. Trickles of blood slithered down from his forehead like vipers as the Professor turned to look at the canvas. The crimson splatter was a statement of the impending fate for the traitors among them. 

Someone screamed. A sensate, judging by the color of her name tag. She looked close to Carter in age, and she passed out at the sight of Carter’s blood on the canvas. 

Maybe sensates could feel the death of their cluster in spite of the Blockers. That would be an interesting subject to study once he got his hands on a cluster of eight. An ideal set of participants, as his data would be more generalizable due to the diversity of the sample.

Another sensate rushed to the woman’s aid. _Typical_ , he thought, shaking his head. _Take out one traitor, and the rest reveal themselves._ He could never comprehend why sensates insisted on working in close proximity with members of their cluster. It only made them more vulnerable to elimination.

The Professor snapped his fingers and made eye contact with the dozen guards that came through the side door. He gestured at the man and the woman. He could sense the air of unease building up in the room as the crowd parted to make way. They whispered to each other, _sensorium_ and _sapien_ alike. 

“Take these two to the operation room,” he said, inching closer to the microphone so everyone could hear. “They will be more useful to our future operation as soldiers.”

*

_“Through dental records, the Berlin Police identified that the remains of the skeleton found in the burnt vehicle. The remains belonged to a major sports sponsor, multi-millionaire Sebastian Fuchs…”_

Riley held her breath as she made her way down the stairs to the basement. The news reporter’s voice reverberated in the hallway, a reminder of the kind of woman she was about to deal with. It was her first time conducting an interrogation, and as reassuring as Lito’s presence in her mind was, she was nervous. 

 _Don’t worry,_ hermana _. All you do is get into her head through her emotions and see what memories she’s hiding. If she asks questions, I can help you out._

Will and Sun stood outside the door to Lila’s bedroom, fists raised in case she wanted to make a dash for it. That was another perk of being in a hideout that came fully equipped with every amenity: there was a windowless room with an en-suite bathroom that worked as a perfect prison.

“Riley Blue,” said Lila. 

Riley expected as much. Her reputation preceded her, both in the EDM fanbase and BPO. She didn’t expect to see Lila sitting cross-legged at her bed. She thought she’d at least be near the door, if only to irritate her interrogators. 

Will shut the door behind her and turned the lock again. From the shadow underneath the door, Riley could tell he was leaning close, ears alert in case Lila tried to attack her.

“Pity,” Lila continued, “I was hoping to see someone new from your cluster.”

Riley didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Why are you in Paris?”

“Mrs Rasal should really be more careful about picking hideouts.” Lila tutted her tongue, raising an eyebrow in amusement when Riley suppressed the urge to cringe at Kala’s title. “BPO knows all about her, thanks to Wolfgang. Where is he? I missed him.”

Riley could feel Lito forcing her to raise her chin high as she sat down on a stool near Lila’s bed. “Did you kill Sebastian Fuchs?” she asked. A rhetorical question, they knew. But any sign of emotion could be used against her, so she tried to sound nonchalant.

“I did what I had to.”

 _I guess so did we,_ Lito whispered. Riley allowed herself a small smirk.

“Right. I can see I didn’t find your most up-to-date hideout. Relocated, have you?”

“Wolfgang said you’re out of options,” Riley answered instead. “BPO betrayed you. Why did you think you could collaborate with them?”

Lila narrowed her eyes and inched her body closer so her face was only inches from Riley’s. “We have the advantage. All the higher-ups in BPO work alone.”

A smug grin. Lito was taking over again. “You _had_ the advantage.”

“Is someone else here?” 

Footsteps echoed in the back of Riley’s mind, hard thumps against the cement. A manicured hand was feeling around for any semblance of another sensate’s presence in her mind. She’d learned by now that every sensate wormed their ways into others’ minds in a different manner. This tactic was, admittedly, more pleasant than the ever-present chill from Whispers’ mind, a sensation that always froze Will from the inside.

“You’ve been practicing,” Lila observed.

What would throw her off? Lila clearly wanted to get her to remember the reason she was guarding her mind against invaders. The most annoying response would be a shrug.

There was a small buzzing from the side of her mind Lila had occupied. A tiny shred of annoyance. Riley recognized the feeling. She’d felt the same way when Jacks would knock on her door, drunkenly slurring the lyrics to some English folk song at three in the morning. Before she could recall his face, though, she thought about Will outside the door, pushing away the image of her ex bleeding to death in Nyx’s apartment.

Kala and Mavis had theorized that her ability to identify and latch onto emotions stemmed from a talent for introspection. She’d spent a long time pushing away her feelings, trying to take every emotion she had and flush them out. She’d tried to overwhelm her senses so she had no space left to feel. But demons swarmed around the periphery of her consciousness, their names labelled in a shade of scarlet that reminded her of blood. Once in a while they’d find their ways in, the sound of their footsteps masked by the overwhelming beats of EDM. 

Kala knew about how her introspection skills came to be; Mavis, Riley suspected, had deduced it by now.

But for now Riley focused on the feeling of annoyance in her past, and nothing more. Jacks’ face became a blur. Lila was annoyed, and frustrated, and perhaps a little worried about how long they would keep her there. An easily identifiable mix (she pushed her consciousness back to the bedroom they occupied), evidenced by the way Lila pursed her lips and gritted her teeth beneath a mask of contempt as she scanned the room for potential escape routes.

Riley gritted her teeth, too, and kept her wide-open eyes trained on Lila. Lito appeared behind her and put his hands on her shoulder, grounding her to the reality that was Lila’s prison. Her next words were carefully chosen. “How much about the _sapiens_ in BPO did you know?” she asked, “Before they turned their backs on you?”

And the annoyance was back, as much as Lila tried to cover up with a loud scoff. In her mind, she reached out with the same emotions from her own experience, feeling the magnetic pull that drew their emotions closer to each other. 

If there was one thing she realized about Lila after the fight at the restaurant, it was that the woman was not in full control of her emotions, but driven to act by them. Her anger gave her an impulse to attack; her desperation, it would appear, gave her an urge to seek temporary alliances with old enemies.

“Whose side are you on?” Riley asked again when the chaotic mix of both their emotions tingled her senses. Her hands were getting warm. She wanted to clutch them into fists. “The Headhunters’?”

“No one’s,” Lila said, seething. It only made her emotion more overwhelming in their shared mind. _I don’t take orders from anyone,_ Riley heard her think.

Lito took over again, recalling Fuchs’ face from a memory they had taken from Wolfgang. “It wasn’t your idea to kill Fuchs. They _made_ you do it.”

For a moment, a memory of Sebastian Fuchs flashed by the forefront of Lila’s mind. Enough for Riley to get a glimpse of amber scotch, a black evening dress, and the Berlin night scene from a drop-down window. When Lila spoke again, another emotion started swarming the empty spaces in their consciousness. Pride, albeit with an ill intention.

“I take orders from no one,” she said. “I killed him because I wanted to.” 

 _I wanted to,_ Lila repeated in her mind. But in their mind’s eye, it was Veronika’s face they saw. Just a flash of red lips and golden hair, but the chill that accompanied the memory was unmistakable.

“No.” That was Riley _and_ Lito. By now they had both realized the truth. A rare grin crept its way up Riley’s cheeks without Lito’s influence. “You killed him because you had to.”

There was no response.

“You don’t need to say anything else,” Lito-in-Riley added. “You betrayed us. You betrayed all the sensates in this world. And now you’re paying the price.”

The memory of Lila’s conversation with Wolfgang was back in both their minds, and Lila wasn’t trying to mask her rage anymore. “We could have had everything. Sensates could have eliminated them all.”

Riley shook her head. “That would never have worked. It’s not one or the other.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “You so-called heroes and your wishful thinking. They’re going to turn on us if we don’t do it first. It’s already happening. You heard the news.”

“And you did nothing to stop it from happening,” said Lito, as a reminder of her incompetence. He and Riley felt her rage simmer in their chests. _You’ve doomed us all._ You _, not them,_ he thought through Riley, making sure Lila could hear.

“You think I was the only one?”

Lito shrugged in Riley’s place. “Other traitors don’t have what we need.”

A pause. Lila laughed, nearly catching Riley off-guard. “I’m not going to let you interrogate me like this. You won’t get anything out of me.”

 _She’s trying to make you frustrated,_ Lito whispered to her. _And then she’ll invade you._ Riley allowed herself to raise an eyebrow, nothing more, as she made a move to stand up.

“I’m not the only one with secrets,” Lila added, just as Riley was about to rap the door three times, the code for letting her out, “you should keep an eye on Jonas.”

*

Despite her reputation as a Korean prison escapee, Sun insisted on coming along to invade the Beijing facility. Any objections were silenced when she pointed out that Wolfgang was too much of a target on BPO’s radar to join their upcoming raid, and Will was going to Shanghai to stop the next Bolger attack. 

There was certainly going to be fighting, if only with Pelzer. And no one wanted to risk being off Blockers the entire time just so Sun could visit and help out when the situation called for a physical confrontation. “And,” she added, “BPO doesn’t know about me. We can all wear masks and keep it that way.”

“They don’t know about me either,” Lito chipped in. “I’ll join you.”

Which meant Hernando and Dani volunteered to come as well, to Lito’s protest. After ten minutes of arguing, the compromised decision was that the two _sapiens_ would join Will in stopping the attack in Shanghai. Just in case — though no one wanted to entertain the possibility — something went wrong in one of the two operations.

“I’ll join you two and Will for Shanghai,” said Mavis.

Will frowned. “But Kiira -”

“Will be in Beijing. I know. Pelzer’s gonna make her control the Bolgers with him. But they’ll be _expecting_ me. They’ll be looking me on their surveillance system. If they see me with anyone, I’ll blow all our covers.”

“I’ll go to Beijing,” Felix volunteered. At their raised eyebrows, he flexed his muscles. “I can fight. And you need a getaway driver — we might have to steal a van.”

Dani shuffled in her seat, but didn’t say anything to protest. He shifted his gaze around the room and tried not to look her in the eye.

After they came up with a rough plan of action for both teams and all the travel documents had been finalized, Sun and Kala took over the first night shift. The first floor living room was empty save for Genevieve, who was hanging upside down on her favorite couch, reading _Going Postal_ by the lamp.

As much as Sun worried about their upcoming mission, she was excited by the prospect of fighting again. Her muscles tingled as she recalled her favorite moves. She anticipated using all of them on whoever they came across in BPO. Kala turned to look at her.

“When was the last time you lost?” asked Kala.

“A while ago.” Sun thought about it. “I was at school. There was a boy, Yeong, who thought he was the best fighter.”

“You proved him wrong.”

_Don’t I always?_

From the couch near the lamp, Genevieve let out a chuckle before she turned her attention back to her book. They were all off Blockers to save whatever rations they could for Will and Wolfgang, whose minds were connected to Headhunters. It would be a few days before someone from the Archipelago could drop by and give them the chemicals they needed to make more Blockers.

Kala turned to face her. “How?”

Sun smiled at Kala’s genuine curiosity. She knew, from glimpses of the other woman’s childhood, that physical combat had never been her forte. But secretly Kala admired people who rumbled and came out victorious, and she’d fantasized about wreaking havoc herself. The car explosion in the garage at the Summer Gala was a dream come true.

“Back in second grade we started training at the same dojo on Saturdays, under the same teacher. All his brothers were trained there. And his family hired a private teacher, too. He used to remind me of that every time we were out on the playground.” Sun rolled her eyes.

Kala laughed.

Sun let Kala inside her memory. It was a crisp autumn day, and Sun had been sitting on a swing on the school playground, readying herself for the first push. She shuffled her feet back, long hair neatly tucked away into two pigtails with blue ribbons at the ends. But Yeong grabbed the rope on her swing and stopped her before she could kick off. 

In typical Sun fashion, Kala felt her throw him a death glare. _What_ , she said, unamused.

 _The tournament’s next Saturday,_ he said. _I’ve been practicing. I’m gonna win gold._

She shrugged. _So?_

His grip around the rope tightened, and by that point Sun was scowling as she tried to yank the rope away from his hand. _You don’t think I can win?_

_Who says it’d be you?_

Yeong scoffed. _What, don’t tell me you think_ you’re _gonna win._

_I don’t see why not. We’re at the same level._

_I know more moves than you._ He let go of the swing, flexing his muscle. 

But Sun was in no mood to play now. She turned to face him again. _It’s not about how much you know,_ she recalled from their last lesson. In their shared mind, Kala saw a glimpse of their teacher, a younger version of the same man who took care of her dog and gave her shelter after she escaped from prison.

 _I can fight better than you,_ he reiterated, louder this time.

 _Well,_ Sun started walking away, hiding a smirk. _I guess we’ll see next Saturday._ She picked up her pace and started heading back to the school building.

As she expected, Yeong caught up, and grabbed her shoulder so she could face him again. _I’m going to win,_ he insisted. _I am!_

She shrugged off his hand. _Sure_ , she drawled. _Whatever you say._

_I can beat you. I can beat you right now._

Sun rolled up the sleeves of her uniform. _I’d like to see you try._

And try he did. 

Neither of them were experienced enough to engage in a full-on, movie-level epic martial arts battle. It was difficult for Kala to comprehend what exactly had gone on — Sun had trouble remembering her fights. In there memory there was a lot of shuffling on all fours as the two of them tried to grab at each other’s arms and legs, their white uniforms scrubbing grime and dirt off of the mats on the playground. 

Sun batted his hands away with punches and random kicks of her feet, but somehow, after a few minutes of rolling around, he’d tackled her from the side and locked her arms behind her back.

 _Ha! I won!_ he declared as they were pulled away by teachers. 

It was only then that Sun noticed a crowd had gathered around to watch. She’d sulked for the rest of the day. She couldn’t concentrate on the lessons. All she could think about was wiping that stupid smirk off of Yeong’s face the next time they came face to face.

When the memory faded, Sun heard Kala laugh. It felt odd to experience her past in a sensate way. She hadn’t revisited this memory in years.

“That was the last fight you lost?”

“The last one I remember losing,” Sun amended.

“How did the tournament go?”

“I won. I started practicing when I got home. I didn’t want to hear him brag about winning for the rest of the year. But I didn’t get to face him at the tournament.” Sun sounded disappointed. “He was defeated by someone else in the second round.”

Kala giggled.

From her favorite couch, Genevieve groaned as she inched off the seat. She laid her head against the carpeted floor as she squirmed further down, until her upper body was lying against the ground, the static making her red curls fly about like a vibrant mess.

“‘M alright,” she grumbled when Sun made a move to try and help her. She turned to her side and grabbed the coffee stand to hoist herself up. She laid her book on the stand and sat cross-legged on the carpet. “Done with the book,” she explained. “Go on, tell me ‘bout the time ya kicked ass. Much more excitin’ to hear it from the hero herself.”

Sun smirked, pleased at the eager audience. Back in her pre-prison days she never talked about her victories to anyone except her teacher. She decided she liked this change.

“I may’ve already seen it, your memory,” Genevieve clarified when she realized Sun was deciding how to bring her up to speed. “Right. By that, I meant I couldn’t resist snoopin’ and I saw the whole thing. ‘Cept the last part when ya lost, I zoned out there.”

Sun wanted to look affronted, but it was hard to be mad at a sensate admirer. So she continued, “After my victory, Yeong tried to say I shouldn’t have won.”

Kala looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. Genevieve let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

With a chuckle, Sun shared another memory. It was the Monday after the tournament, and although not many people at school knew about her victory, she was smiling as she headed off to recess, hoping to get a spot on one of the swings before the older kids came out. But a voice stopped her in her track.

 _Jae-joon let you win_ , said Yeong. _In your last match. He let you win._

Sun crossed her arms. _You’re just mad because he beat you in the second round._

 _He didn’t let_ me _win. He fought me with his full strength._

She started walking off. _Why wouldn’t he?_

 _He just - he -_ Yeong paused, before blurting out, _He went easy on you because you’re a girl!_

Now he’d gone and done it. Sun turned around again, clutching her fists. Her expression didn’t change, but Kala could feel her muscles tick. Genevieve _ooh_ -ed at the sign of trouble.

 _That has nothing to do with it,_ said Sun. She didn’t raise her voice. _I beat him._

 _He didn’t wanna make you cry._ Yeong walked up to her, cooing. _Girls are all crybabies when they lose._ He pretended to rub his eyes. _Wah-wah-wah -_

Sun slapped him.

The next thing she knew, they were locked in another fight. A crowd gathered as they started throwing kicks and punches. Yeong was a loud fighter; he yelped as he made every move. But Sun remained quiet and focused on jabbing all of his weak spots. She’d spent the last week practicing ways she could kick his butt before her father got home, and her muscle memories kicked in when she finally got the chance to fight him again. She wanted to get back at him for defeating her last time.

One of the moves she used to win against Jae-joon was a kick behind his knees. When she found an opening she did just that, and it knocked him over. Before he could get up from his kneeling position, she tackled down his upper body and sat on top of him. He squirmed underneath her weight, but she was unrelenting. 

 _You take that back!_ she shouted, pulling his arms behind his back. _Take that back!_

Yeong started crying.

Her father was far from pleased when he got called to the principal’s office in the middle of the day. Yeong ended up at the nurse’s with a dislocated shoulder, and Sun was suspended for two weeks. Her father yelled at her for the entire ride home, but she was too smug to care.

Her mother had patched up her bruises and re-braided her messy hair. And, after her had father left, she’d asked if Sun had won. It was one of her happiest memories.

 _Let’s not make a habit of this, Sun,_ her mother had told her before dinner. _Not every problem can be solved by using your fists. And not every problem is worth hurting yourself for._

Sun supposed she had a point. She’d seen her father avoid some conflicts with his business rivals and toy with the rest with some kind of plan. _Strategies_ , he’d called them. But when Sun went to bed smiling that night, she couldn’t help admitting that she liked using her fists much better. Even more so when her mom brought her to her teacher’s house in secret for extra training the next day (she’d complained about being bored), and he’d congratulated her on the victory.

But her mother had been out of her life for years. What would her mother have said if she’d seen how Sun turned out today? She hardly believed her mother, ever the pacifist, would have been able to come up with a less gruesome alternative for her current predicament. As Sun found her consciousness drifting back to her living room, she concluded that for the current problem, violence was the _only_ choice. 

Kala and Genevieve were nodding, both silent as they listened to her thoughts.

BPO wasn’t one for negotiation. And, unlike her situation with Joong-Ki, she couldn’t simply walk away and hope some kind of authority could help bring them to justice. No one would have been able to save Kiira and the innocent would-be victims in Shanghai except for her cluster and allies. And if doing that required violence from their end?

“Then so be it,” Kala finished for her. 

When Sun looked at Kala again, she saw flames in her eyes, a flashback to the explosion at Wolfgang’s uncle’s house. It was the first time Kala realized there were some problems that words couldn’t fix.

“So be it.” Sun echoed her thought as she looked down to examine her hands, noting the injuries across her knuckles, new red scars atop the old.

She had not lost a fight for years. And she did not plan to, for years to come. 

*

Will started packing for Shanghai after Riley fell asleep. They’d taken the bedroom in the basement so he could keep an eye on their prisoner.

The lights in the basement lab were still on. Will found Henrik standing a meter away from the large cork board on the wall, muttering to himself as he moved a pushpin with a string attached. He pinned it on the other end of the board, on top of a photograph of a man Will had never seen. The way Henrik hunched over the hoard to hunt for clues reminded Will of his early days as a cop.

When Henrik noticed him watching, he gave a slight nod, still mumbling as he looked between the board and a notebook in his hand. 

“Oh, I was just -” Will started - “Leon said you keep firearms in the basement?”

It took Henrik a second to realize he was being addressed. He scratched the back of his head and smiled in apology, tousling the already messy curls on his head. “Sorry. Here.” He pulled out a drawer beneath the sink of the lab counter and handed Will a pistol. 

“Wouldn’t they find it, though? At the airport?”

“It’s just for the car ride,” Will explained. “In case someone’s on our trail.”

“Makes sense.” He opened the small safe under the drawer and took out a packet of bullets. “We don’t keep them loaded, you know, just in case -”

“Damien. Yeah, I figured.”

Henrik sighed. “Too curious for his own good sometimes, that kid. We don’t want him to hurt himself. Once he talked about going rogue and storming a BPO facility.”

“Oh, that’s -” it was Will’s turn to scratch his head, wondering what he could say to that.

“Concerning?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what Gina said. That’s why we keep the guns unloaded.”

“So who is he?” Will put the pistol and the packet of bullets on the lab counter behind him and pointed at the cork board, at the photograph of the man where Henrik had added the pushpin. “Are these all Headhunters?”

“Not Headhunters,” Henrik explained. “These are the Blocker traders around the Paris area. They work with the Archipelago.”

“You know all of them?”

“Sometimes we get new traders, if one of them’s holed up somewhere. You never know with Headhunters scouting around.”

“How do you know if the new traders are, umm -”

“Not spies? We don’t. That’s what I’m worried about. It’s getting worse.”

“Worse?” 

“All these regulars are disappearing. Veracity’s been in contact. They said the sensates are all running low on Blockers.” He showed Will the notebook he was writing in. “There used to be five regulars around Paris, and only one of them’s still around.” 

Henrik pointed out a particular line of writing in his notes. His half-cursive letters were scrambled out of order, and nearly impossible for Will to decipher. Will wondered if the words were in a language he didn’t know.

“No one could get in touch with the other four,” Henrik continued, pointing at another part of his notes. Will tried to make out what it said. “The one I just pinned? He was in contact three days ago with the trader who’s still around. But not anymore. Everyone’s worried.”

“Right. Yeah.” Will lifted his head to look Henrik in the eye.

“Oh. It’s -” embarrassed, Henrik closed the notebook - “that’s why we have the board.”

Will nodded. He knew there must have been a reason his hosts came up with the alternative system, but he didn’t want to pry. Henrik picked up his thought.

“Do you want a Blocker? We have more in stock.”

“Oh. I was hoping to get a glimpse of Whispers. But I guess he’s Blocked himself off.”

Frowning, Henrik scratched his head again, worsening his case of permanent bedhead. “Whispers,” he muttered. “White hair? Round glasses?”

“You know him?”

“He tried to catch Gina. Went all the way to her school in Sydney to find her.”

“Wow.” Will recalled how close Riley came to being under the knife and suppressed a shudder. “Must’ve been a close one.”

“We were lucky. She was trying to board a ship out of the country. There was an Archipelago trader at the pier who noticed what was going on. He helped her get away.”

“Is that why you all came to Paris?”

Henrik nodded. “It was safest if we all stayed together, and Leon got his inheritance when his granddad passed away. We don’t have to worry about one of us being caught now. We can focus on helping the cause.”

“Thank you.”

“Gina would have died if it weren’t for other sensates. I wouldn’t wish that on any cluster.”

“Have you always been -” Will started, but stopped himself before he could blurt out something inappropriate - “close?”

If he was alone, Will would have groaned. Maybe it was late, and his brain didn’t fully registered how awkward this question must have been. He was, admittedly, far from well-versed in the protocols of meeting a new sensate couple. 

To his surprise, Henrik beckoned him closer, pulling out two stools from underneath the lab counter. He invited Will to sit down. “Since the beginning. I can tell it’s the same way with you and Riley, yes?”

If he wanted Will to blush, he succeeded. “How did you meet?”

“It was funny, actually.” Henrik grinned a little, a boyish grin, a stark contrast to the serious vibe he gave off when he was focused on an analysis. “We first connected when I was asleep. I thought it was part of my dream. She was arguing with someone.”

And here Will thought seeing Riley at that creepy abandoned church was an odd way to meet. But it would appear most first-time connections were under similarly unusual circumstances. “So what happened?”

“She was arguing with this guy she was dating.” And, at Will’s look of horror, “I don’t think she saw me — I was seeing through her eyes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Henrik shared the memory. Will found himself looking at a man with shoulder-length beach waves, and he felt himself cross his arms in the body he was inhabiting. When he spoke, the voice sounded like Gina.

 _What’s your problem, Spencer?_ she asked, voice raised as she stepped closer to look him in the eyes. _You just — you pulled me away in front of all my friends. Why do you always do that?_

 _I just wanted to talk!_ He threw his arms up. _We hadn’t talked in like, three days. You’re always busy with something. We never have time to talk._

 _Well, we’re talking now,_ Gina plopped down on her bed. _Out with it, then. What’s the problem?_

 _You make time for everything. Everything. You - you study, and you meet with your professors and your friends and that one bloke from your Monday lecture who’s always askin’ you stupid questions_ \- he took a deep breath - _but you can’t go out for one dinner with me?_

 _Is that what this is about?_ Will felt Gina raise her voice. _You think I’m_ ignoring _you?_

_Aren’t you?_

_I’m just busy,_ she told him. Will could feel the tension riling up inside her chest, the stress of everything combined, suffocating her as Spencer continued to fuss. _It’s the end of term. We weren’t partying when you came barging in. We were revising._

 _That’s exactly my point!_ He almost looked relieved, like he thought it was a perfectly reasonable complaint. _You make time to help everyone with their homework. Bloody hell, Georgie, it’s like you’re runnin’ a fuckin’ charity._

That was certainly not the response she was hoping for. _Don’t -_ she put her face in her hands _\- don’t bloody call me that. Not now._

 _You don’t need to go ‘round helpin’ everyone._ He walked closer and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. _You don’t have any time for yourself._

She scoffed. When she looked up again, her vision was blurred like she’d been tearing up. _You mean I don’t have time for_ you _._

_Well, you don’t._

That, of course, made things even worse. _I made an effort to spent time with you every day,_ she was hollering now. _Every day! For the whole bloody year! All I want is a few days of space, and you can’t even go one day without getting jealous?_

The next voice Will heard was Henrik’s. It sounded like he was on the verge of falling back asleep. _Seems like he’s not appreciating you,_ he slurred.

 _What?_ Gina asked, out loud. Her boyfriend said something in return, but it became a muddle of incoherent yelling as Henrik spoke again inside their mind. 

 _He’s just trying to get affection out of you,_ he told her, stumbling over his words. Will knew Henrik was wondering whether he was crazy, giving advice to someone he believed to be a figment of his imagination. _Like, he’s - you’re devoting a lot of time, right? And he’s spoiled. He gets mad when you can’t give him attention. What’s he given you?_

To his surprise, Gina heard every word he was thinking. She got up and opened the door to her room. _Out,_ she told her boyfriend, who yelled out what sounded like a protest in return. _I can’t - it’s - I just can’t deal with this right now._

A day later she saw Henrik’s reflection in her mirror. Three days after that, she broke up with Spencer, and never looked back.

“ _Woah_ ,” was all Will could say when he found his consciousness back in the lab.

Henrik smirked in triumph. “Yes, basically, I helped her break up with him.”

“Is that why you got together?”

“Maybe.” He thought about it. “But we were friends first. She helped me with my course work.” He smiled. “That’s just the kind of person she is.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I’d have quit school if it weren’t for her.”

“How come?”

Henrik opened the notebook, filled with illegible scribbles. “I have dyslexia. It’s a nightmare when I’m trying to study.”

In their shared mind, Will found himself looking at a desk with open textbooks and loose pages of illegible notes strewn around the place. Henrik picked up one of the textbooks and tried to concentrate on a paragraph, and the letters within the words started scrambling around, switching places as he set his eyes on them *****. Groaning, he shut the book again.

 _Hey,_ said a voice behind him. He turned and looked Gina in the eye, not bothering to hide his frustration. They had been talking for a few days, trying to convince themselves that they weren’t going crazy, that the other person was real. _Need help with that?_

 _I’m going to fail,_ he told her.

She chuckled. _With that mindset? Probably._

_Great._

_Not a visual learner?_

_I could be._ He shrugged. _With pictures, charts, that kind of thing. Not words._

She furrowed her brows for a few seconds. Will felt her consciousness taking over Henrik’s perception. _Ahh,_ she said, as her mind retreated back to her own body. _Right. Dyslexia. We’ll have to try something different then._

_You don’t have to -_

_Nonsense. No one’s gonna fail on my watch._ She snatched the book he was trying to read from his desk and sat cross-legged on his bed, letting the light from the window help her see. _Sit,_ she ordered, patting the space next to her.

He chuckled as he made his way over. _Yes, ma’am._

Gina started reading the text from the beginning, pausing to confirm that she wasn’t losing him. And for the first time in days, the words started to make sense. He could recall what he’d heard from his lectures. He’d taken notes, of course, but the most infuriating part of his dyslexia was that he had a hard time reading his own writing.

By the time the sun had set, her voice was getting raspy. Henrik felt her mind drifting off as she scrambled for the light switch, and he reached over to turn on the lamp for her, his arm grazing her chin. _Let’s call it a day,_ he said, taking the book back.

Then Henrik was at Gina’s place, putting water into a kettle. A few minutes later she huddled on her couch with a mug of honey chamomile tea in hand, and he sat next to her. He put an arm around her as they started to talk about fun things they did as children. When the tea cooled down, she took a small sip. Her eyes widened.

_Alright, you’re definitely real._

Henrik chuckled. _What gave it away?_

_I’m rubbish at making tea._

Will didn’t notice the memory had ended until he’d turned his head and saw Henrik smiling, lost in thought as he stroked an old ring on his left index finger. “This was my father’s,” he explained. “He was a teacher. Helped a lot of kids. I wanted to be just like him.”

“Did you have to quit school? When you -” Will looked around the safe house, located in a city which none of Henrik’s cluster used to call home.

“We all did. Well, Miki and Leon didn’t go to university, but we’ve all been living a different life since we came two years ago.”

“Do you think you’ll go back? After everything?”

Henrik thought about it. “I’ve changed a lot. I want to go back and finish my degree and start teaching, but -” he paused, shaking his head - “there’s no other way to say this except ‘I’m not the same person as before’.”

“No, I get it.”

Some days Will would picture himself getting his job back, getting his _life_ back, in the near future when this was all over. But after eliminating the biggest threat to his survival, a feat that the rest of the _sapiens_ in the world might never even know about? There was no way he could go back to being just a Chicago cop. 

For starters, he’d realized, somewhere between hiding out in Amsterdam and hopping on that train to London, that there was no way he could envision a future without Riley.

Henrik nodded. “Gina and I, we’ll have to finish school together. Maybe we can go to America, or somewhere else new. At least language won’t be a problem,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

Will didn’t even realize he had shared this fantasy of his. There was an air of sincerity about Henrik that made Will lower the barriers he put up around his mind, despite only having known each other for five days. 

 _Wait_ , he reminded himself, his cop instincts kicking in as soon as he realized Henrik wasn’t the only person who could hear his thoughts, _Whispers might’ve slipped in. Shit._

He closed his eyes, concentrated on locating all the other minds currently occupying his thoughts, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found no sign of the Headhunter’s presence. Henrik handed him a glass of water and a small bottle of black capsules from their storage, which he graciously accepted. He downed a Blocker.

“So,” Henrik asked, his serious visage disappearing as soon as he broke into that boyish grin again, “when are you going to ask her?”

“What?”

A quirked eyebrow.

“What - how -” Will looked incredulous, “Did I show you something?”

“No.” Henrik shrugged, the signature grin still etched on his face. “Unless there’s something you’d like to show me?”

With a fellow sensate who seemed to have been able to sneak inside his head, there was no point denying anything. After Henrik promised not to tell another soul, Will gave in. 

When he entered his bedroom again, Riley stirred in her sleep and mumbled something in Icelandic, but didn’t wake. The old backpack he’d brought from Chicago was still lying by the foot of their bed where he’d left it. 

As if on instinct, Riley broke into a smile in her dream when he pulled out the box from a hidden pouch on the bottom left corner of his bag. It was a just-in-case hiding space he’d paid a tailor to sew in a few years back should he have needed to hide something small, and he thanked his cop habits for that. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and got back inside the lab.

Henrik’s eyes widened when Will opened the velvet box. 

Inside was a rose gold ring ****** with a fire opal in the center. The opal was surrounded by leaf-like decorations on the sides, decked with small diamond accent stones. Will had seen it in the window of the vintage shop in Amsterdam near their hiding place, the first time he’d gone outside after Whispers was put on ice. He’d known immediately that it was the one, and he’d turned away before Riley could see where he was looking.

“When did you -” Henrik tilted his head, frowning - “I thought you two were always together. How did you get this?”

“She went to her friend Vincent’s for a few hours to get the Blockers tested, after we got out of the museum.” His cluster had already told the hosts about his encounter with Croome a few days back. “That was when I went back to the shop.”

“Wait, you brought your credit card on the run?”

Will tucked the box away and reminded himself to put it back into the hiding spot later. ”I didn’t. But I had some savings back home. And, well, Nomi helped me… get access to them.”

Henrik laughed. The entire safe house was more than familiar with the antics of their hacker friend and ally by now. “When are you planning to break the big question?”

“I don’t know when all _this_ -” he gestured to the pistol he’d left on the lab counter - “will end. I don’t wanna wait that long.”

“So, when?”

“After we stop the Bolger attack in Shanghai — wherever that’s gonna take place, Nomi and Bug are still looking into that. And infiltrate the Beijing facility. And bring Kiira home.”

“Shouldn’t be too long, now.”

“It shouldn’t,” Will agreed, with as much courage as he could muster. He refused to consider the possibility of failing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** I have no personal experience with dyslexia so I am going by Mr Google’s advice as always. Any experts out there, please correct me if I’m wrong before I embarrass myself further. I know dyslexia affects different people in different ways with different severities. But I was trying to describe Henrik’s particular case using [this simulator](http://www.cnn.com/2016/03/05/health/dyslexia-simulation/index.html) I found, in case any of you are curious :)
> 
>  ****** In case any of you were wondering what the ring looks like, [here](https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/281029056/vintage-rose-opal-ring-in-14k-or-18k?ref=shop_home_active_8) it is. A shoutout to my friend Gen (@andguinevere on tumblr) for helping me finalize this design as _the one_. You may have noticed that the fourth photo of this listing includes a matching leaf band that would have made for a perfectly unique and exquisite wedding band. That may or may not have influenced our decision.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Et voila! Am I forgiven? 
> 
> Next chapter's gonna be a shorter transitional sort of chapter, where some people are in the air talking things out and others are on land... also talking things out. HA. 
> 
> And then? TIME FOR SOME ACTION, BABY!


	19. Strayed above the highway aisle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some people talk things out in the air, and others make negotiations on land.
> 
> “…And at once I knew I was not magnificent  
> Strayed above the highway aisle  
> (Jagged vacance, thick with ice)  
> I could see for miles, miles, miles”  
> — From “Holoscene”, by Bon Iver (S2E10)

******July 19, 2017**

In a movie, the best course of action would be to make a run for it.

But this wasn’t a movie. And Kiira was painfully aware that if she attempted to escape from the Headhunter (who had held her captive, forced her to put on a smile and hand over what was most certainly not her real passport when they boarded), BPO would have caught up with her before her Blocker wore off. Before she could attempt to try and contact Mavis, who was most definitely worried out of her mind.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to suppress the racing thoughts rushing through her head, but it was getting harder to concentrate on her plan of action as the plane neared its destination, the Beijing Capital Airport. 

There was still an hour or two to go, but in the air, with most of her fellow passengers asleep, it was unlikely she could get any assistance. She supposed she could try and write a secret message behind the bathroom mirror and signal a flight attendant to check inside. The problem was, she would be putting someone else at risk, too. 

She could see why Mavis kept a switchblade tucked in her boot. Though no sane security guard would have allowed her to bring one into a plane… Which would have provided her with a perfect chance to escape. Or at the very least, be banned from all future flights, and then she could hope BPO wouldn’t ship her over to the target location like cargo. 

Still, she fantasized about blades, her eyes tracing the Morgan-inflicted scar down the left side of his cheek. As a student who had devoted the last few years of her life studying biology amongst other areas of science, she knew all the regions of Karl Pelzer’s body that, once stabbed, would grant him the maximum amount of pain. Nearly fatal pain, but not quite, just enough to make him struggle for a few hours before his eventual death as he bled from his wound. Right now this thought was the only thing keeping her calm.

 _Damn, Kiira, the world should be thankful you’re choosing the good path,_ said the Mavis voice in her head. The memory of her cluster-mate made her heartbeat calm a little. _You’d have made a freaking scary torturer._

She suppressed a smirk. What would Mavis have done? Surely, as a Veracity spy, she had run into sticky situations now and then?

Mavis would probably say something humorously self-deprecating, cheeky enough to let the other person roll their eyes and hope to ditch her as soon as they got the chance. As if on cue, Karl raised an eyebrow, all gray-eyed glare as she turned to watch him. She tried not to blink too much. Or tremble. Or both.

“Don’t think about it,” he said under his breath, eyes glancing around the cabin to make sure no one else was listening. “You’ve nowhere to go.”

“Well,” Kiira tilted her head, putting on her best Mavis impression, “by technical terms, Mr Pelzer, I do believe you are mistaken. We are, in fact, on a vehicle that is transporting us to a location in another continent which is most certainly not _nowhere_.”

He breathed through his nostrils. As Mavis had worked under Pelzer’s scrutiny for all of her two years as a spy without raising much suspicion, Kiira knew her Mavis impression had touched a nerve. It was hard to stop herself from smirking.

“Don’t try to play smart with me.”

“I assure you, Sir, I am acutely aware this is not a game.”

“You’ll regret saying this when I’m done with you.”

His responses were predictable. She was almost disappointed. 

The Veracity hackers told her the Headhunter pursuing Capheus’ cluster was more theatrical in his delivery of death treats. Like Jim Moriarty, who liked to broadcast his master plans before his enemy’s planned (and often failed) demise. It was comically cliché that villains would come to regret telling the hero their plans, but repeat the same mistake over and over. Perhaps Pelzer had learned from his fictional predecessors. Kiira ought to have given the Headhunter more credit.

“I’m afraid I’m rather unclear on the specifics of my eventual death,” Kiira replied, echoing her thoughts in a way reminiscent of a dry textbook as her mouth moved before her mind could fully process what was being said. “I believe the plan was to utilize my abilities for one of your operations before this final stage?”

“Who told you?”

“A simple deduction, really. The fact that the organization is investing in my travel indicates my purpose in the next mission extends far beyond that of a lobotomized soldier.”

He sneered. “You sound like fucking Milton.”

“From this evidence”, she continued, ignoring his comment, though in her mind she pictured the white haired man she saw in Capheus’ memory, “I’ve come to the conclusion that _BPO_ -” she said the acronym louder, hoping someone would hear, and he pinched her arm and glared to tell her to quiet down - “is rather short on _sensorium_ manpower. And the future operations require a way of control, something unachievable with _sapien_ allies.”

Pelzer didn’t dignify that with a response.

“You need me alive at the moment,” she whispered as her mind assumed full control over her speech again. “Because this operation cannot fail. And this operation cannot fail, because the _sapiens_ you answer to will not be pleased.”

“It will not fail,” he told her. “I will make certain of it. And you will get what you deserve when I am finished with you.”

“What I deserve is freedom,” she said, seething. _And Morgan deserved the same thing._

Pelzer could have been scoffing, but he did a decent job hiding it. She supposed it was up to her to do more prying. 

She turned to him again. “My only question now is, _why_ is this operation so important? Yes, I know they’re all important, but this is the first time you needed extra help commanding the - What do you call them? _Soldiers_.”

And, when he didn’t respond. “Does this have to do with the news release? With the so-called brain mutations — which, as a medical student, I have to say, is far from an accurate description of an epigenetic brain disorder -”

A tight hand clutched her wrist, urging her to stop talking. He stared her down, growling. “How did you hear that?”

Kiira put on her best Mavis-smirk. It gave her a sense of power to know that despite her predicament, there were little details she could hold over the Headhunter. She decided to remember this trick for a rainy day. “I could hear your radio from the back of the van you locked me in. Yes, I was awake by then.”

With that said, she turned to face the screen in front of her, and clicked through the channels of available shows. Before she put on her headphone, she added, “I know what this _operation_ is about. You’re going to blame this on sensates. _Again_. Only you’ll link it to the made-up disorder this time, too.”

His expression was stoic as ever, but he turned away from her. Smirking, she decided to stop provoking him for now. She had faith Mavis and the August 8 cluster would have gathered enough resources to locate her destination. She may as well go along with Pelzer’s plan and gather information that could assist in bringing down the corrupt organization before they can do any more harm. 

 _The game is on_ , said two voices in her head. One sounded like Sherlock Holmes, and the other, her brother Liam. She remembered when they used to huddle up on the couch for _Sherlock_ marathons and try to solve the case before the end. But, to her disappointment, real life cases didn’t give way to nearly as many clues.

As the Sherlock theme played, she looked at the screen and prayed for an escape plan.

*

“Have you come to let me out?”

Jonas sighed as he laid down a bowl of something savory on the desk in the corner of Lila’s room. He turned to look at the Neapolitan, taking in the way she tried to maintain her air of dignity, chin raised and gaze sharp, despite the tousled updo and wrinkled jumpsuit she had not taken off for days. 

She smirked when she realized he was watching, a provocative quirk of her lips — an unsettling expression she’d picked up from Veronika.

“I suppose the answer’s no,” she tried again.

He made a move to leave, but she hummed and shuffled in her bed to give him space. Instead of sitting next to her, Jonas just stood, frowning. “Like I have told you before, Lila, I am not going to take a side.”

“It looks like you’ve taken theirs.”

“They took action without consulting me. Their decisions, as always, were made regardless of my opinion.”

“What would you have said?”

A pause, before he sat down and turned to face her. “It was a rash decision, to seek out what you believed to be their hiding place alone. Yes, Calum was with you -” she cringed at the name - “but driving a van was hardly going to help in combat.”

“ _Cal_ thought they’d be more open to negotiation. And I agreed.”

“And the rest of you?”

“Veronika kept an eye on everyone, Marcela especially. They couldn’t leave their rooms. Cal happened to be in Paris for another assignment.”

For once, Jonas actually looked intrigued. “I’m surprised they let him wander about. And you. After what happened with Sebastian Fuchs.”

“You’ve heard, have you?”

“I know you, Lila.” He looked into her eyes, speaking in the way a mentor would when they wanted to talk their protégée out of doing something rash. “I know you’re prone to impulsive acts of violence when a plan defies your expectation.”

She wanted so badly to lash out at Jonas, who sat unmoving in his spot as he continued to gaze at her with that knowing look. But lashing out would only prove him right. And she was _not_ hasty in the way he believed. She wasn’t. “I believed it was a strategic move. Veronika said she was looking to trade with Sebastian.”

“The Reciphorum has been distributed?”

“Yes.” And, as an idea struck, she sat up straighter and resisted the urge to smirk. “But before that, the product was tested on a prisoner. An _Egyptian_ , I believe.”

Lila heard Jonas swallow, and when he spoke again, she knew he was doing his best to hide the inflection in his voice, the one that made his emotions vulnerable to prying. “Veronika had no doubt given you the information as a test,” he said.

“It was. She wanted so badly to believe I could be trusted.”

“You were playing a dangerous game, Lila. I warned you once. But you believed you had the advantage.”

“ _We_ did. We still do. Help me find a way to reach them. Tell me where we are.”

“It would be unwise for me to compromise my whereabouts.”

His cowardliness would be the death of them all. “You’re not helping us!” she raised her voice, hoping she was loud enough for someone to hear her outside the door. “You promised you’d do what you can. You said so before they kidnapped you and made you their slave -”

She halted her yelling when she noticed no change in his expressions, no glance towards the direction of the door, and bit back a curse. Why wasn’t he worried about being exposed? 

Jonas extracted an electronic device from his pocket. “No one is guarding this door. Someone escorted me in, but they’re all upstairs now. It’s lunchtime.” He nodded at the bowl he left on her desk. “I told them I’d try and get some answers out of you. But my efforts would prove to be unsuccessful.”

She grabbed at his shoulders in an effort to hurt him, to get _some_ kind of reaction out of him. “You’d leave me here to rot?”

“I am simply doing what is best for me to survive,” he cut in, his voice steady, as he glanced at her hands on his shoulder. Too late, she realized she had proven exactly what he’d said about her temper. 

Seething, she let go. He nodded and continued, “You know as well as I how precarious our survival is in the current climate. I promised to do what I could to keep all of you alive, but not at the cost of my own life.”

“All you care about is yourself.”

He shrugged. “I believe we are much the same.”

“No.” She moved away from him to stand near the door. “I am not doing this for myself. It’s for all of us.”

“What do you plan to do to find your missing members?”

“My plan,” she retorted, seething, “is none of your concern. You’re not going to help.”

Jonas was unfazed. She tried not to look disappointed. “I’ve helped before. I warned you not to get too close to the likes of BPO. You didn’t listen.” 

He stood up and walked to join her at the door. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for her to step aside. She did so grudgingly. 

“You’ve made your decision. They’ve made theirs. And I’ve made mine,” he told her. He pushed a button on the device, and spoke into the microphone on the side of the contraption. “Ready when you are, Will.”

When he let go of the button, Lila asked, cocking her head towards the closed door, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell them the truth?”

“You won’t,” he said. 

She hated that he was right. They heard the sound of Will’s footsteps, along with two others, coming down the stairs from the far end of the basement. Always with the reinforcements. 

She scoffed. “How can you be certain?”

“Because our secret is the only thing keeping you alive.”

*

When Felix and Dani parted at the airport, he’d wanted to tell her to _be safe_. Usually he didn’t have a problem saying what was on his mind, but for the first time the words became a jumble as soon as he opened his mouth. She’d raised her eyebrow and given him a questioning glance. He’d settled for muttering something that sounded like “see you soon”. 

Upon hearing that, she’d smiled, her first time in days.

Felix kind of wished he didn’t say anything, though, because as soon as the plane took off, he found himself locked in a confrontation with Lito and Sun. _Lito and Sun,_ of all people.

Lito turned to him and tried his best to glare. Felix could tell he was doing a dramatic impression of one of his deadly characters. He’d seen a couple of his films during his late night guarding shifts, and though he was no Conan, he was pretty impressive. More so in person when he was trying to scare Felix shitless.

“What are your intentions?” asked Lito. He exaggerated his accent, the r’s and t’s, and the sharpness of it made him sound antiheroic. In the window seat next to Lito, Sun glanced in their direction with an amused smirk before putting on her headphones.

“My intentions?” Felix tried not to cringe. Instead of confronting the man who had twice the amount of muscles over him, he tried for something suave, a distraction. “We’re on a suicide mission. My intention is to not get my ass kicked.”

Lito was, of course, unamused. “What are your intentions with Dani?”

Felix shrugged, trying to buy some time as he figured out what he wanted to say, as Lito stared him down with a newfound intensity. If Felix admitted he found Dani hot, he had a feeling he’d get his fucking ass kicked before he even set foot in the BPO facility. So he settled for, “She’s fun. We shared a few drinks.”

Lito shifted in his seat and inched closer, bearing down on Felix like a stuck-up bouncer at a high-end club. “Fun?”

 _Fuck._ That was not the right thing to say. “She’s a good friend,” Felix amended. “We got to know each other. She told me about cool stuff she did with you and Hernando.”

It was Lito’s turn to be silent. He turned to face the front, dark brows locked in a Wolfie-like brood. Finally, he said, unconvinced, “Is that all? You want to be friends.”

“Wait, -” Felix paused, remembering the day he’d given her a scare. _Shit_ \- “did she say something? Does she want me to back off?”

“Why would she -” Lito turned to him with a sudden jolt. Felix nearly jumped in his seat. “What did you do?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Sun paused the movie she was watching and turned to watch their exchange. Felix started opening and closing his mouth, aghast and embarrassed, without uttering a word, which made Lito’s frown deepen.

“I -” he finally spoke. “Alright, I didn’t know it was gonna freak her out so much -”

“ _What_ did you do?”

Felix explained the situation to Lito in what he thought was incoherent mumbles, but Lito seemed to have picked up the gist. With a sigh and an _ay_ , Lito leaned forward and put his face in his hands. Confused, Felix turned to Sun with a questioning glance between her and Lito, and she shook her head.

“Look,” Felix tried again, “Dani looked like she thought I was gonna hit her. I didn’t want to scare her again. So I backed off.”

Lito lifted his face from his hands. “You backed off?”

A nod. “Yeah. I tried to give her space.”

“When? When did this happen?”

“Like, five days ago? Why?”

Another groan from Lito’s end. “She was _upset_ ,” he said, more to Sun than to Felix. It seemed to be a common habit among the cluster, turning to each other when they wanted to confide. Wolfie and Kala, he remembered, surprising his pang of jealousy, were the same way. “She was upset and I didn’t know why. She’s been so quiet and I didn’t - _ay_ , I’m terrible, Sun. Terrible. She said she was fine but -”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, “she was upset?”

“She was upset you’re not talking to her,” Sun explained.

“But I do talk to her.”

Sun shook her head. “Not like before.”

“What do you mean?”

She simply looked at him until he came to his senses. Groaning, Felix suppressed the urge to plant his own face into his palms. Why the fuck was he so embarrassed to admit he’d always been flirting with Dani? It wasn’t like it was his first time flirting.

And then, as Felix watched Sun put a hand on a still-appalled Lito’s shoulder, it hit him. 

For a few weeks now, Felix had come to see Dani as a friend. He’d come to know her well, through all the conversations they had as they sat around trying to get drunk: tall tales of street fights and car chases and damsels weaved their ways into their conversation, stories of his past he’d exaggerated to make his life sound epic. 

She’d break into a smile every time he recounted another one of his victories in life, and it made him wish the stories were all true. He wanted her to be impressed. And he was fucking happy whenever she was, because that gave him hope.

“You don’t just want to be friends,” Lito finally declared, jolting Felix away from his train of thought. It was like Lito could see inside _his_ head, too. Which was beyond creepy.

It would have been so easy to deny it, to deny the fact that he still had a crush on Dani, and hope to get this awkward conversation over with. But if there was anything Felix learned about Lito in the past few weeks, it was that the man was a fucking human lie detector. 

“Maybe not,” Felix admitted. Then, in an attempt to appease the other man, who was beginning to look a bit murderous, “Hell, it doesn’t matter what I want. She’s clearly not interested. I’ll back off.”

Lito tilted his head, thinking. Felix let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I don’t know how Dani feels,” Lito finally said. “I can’t make decisions for her. But I don’t think this is the best time for -” he gestured to all of Felix - “for this. For _her_.”

And Lito was right. The timing (Felix realized as he looked around the cabin and reminded himself they were flying to China to kick Headhunter ass) was beyond shit. Even if they were victorious in their current mission, who knew how long it’d take for them to take down the big bosses at BPO? Could be a year. Could be less than a month.

After the eventual victory, though, they’d all part ways and go back home, try and patch up the remainder of their old lives before moving on. _And_ , on the second day they met, Dani had already made it clear she wasn’t looking for a fling.

“I get it,” Felix said, entirely serious. “I’ll back off, leave her alone.”

“Well.” Lito looked at Sun again with an expression Felix couldn’t gauge, but Sun seemed to have understood. She nodded and gave Lito a meaningful look. “I don’t think that’s what Dani wants, either.”

“You’re making me more confused.”

“She wants a friend, Felix. Someone she can talk to, have a drink with… Someone she can trust, besides me and Hernando.”

Felix thought about it. “I don’t know. I’ve made things weird.”

“Talk to her.” Lito patted him on the back, his hand firm. “She’s not mad. She misses you.”

Dani. Missing _him_. Fancy that.

Felix nodded before turning back to face the front. Frowning now, he wondered how the fuck he would even go about trying to initiate such a conversation. _“Hi, Dani, so I know you’ve been through some fucked up things in your past and I’m an idiot and I made it worse can we forget all this shit and start over?” -_

But starting over wasn’t going to change anything. They’d still be stuck in circles, trying to hide from each other: Felix with his tall tales, Dani casually avoiding all mention of shit in her past that Felix had no intention of prying. But Felix realized she hadn’t led a perfect life before all this superhuman BPO madness. The world had screwed her over, as much as it did with him. Maybe even more. 

In some way, they were both kind of broken. And if he still wanted to be her friend, the only way to go forward was to tell the truth. No more lies.

*

Dani had her eyes closed, but Hernando knew she was still struggling to fall asleep. She had her head on his shoulder, and he put his arms around her, a feeble attempt to shield her from the passengers crossing the aisle on her right. Next to him, Will was frowning at nothing in particular, no doubt going through all their plans and preparations for the upcoming mission after Mavis had fallen into a restless sleep next to him.

He and Dani had been silent as they took in every word the two sensates were discussing as the plane took off. They had tried not to worry about Lito, who was on his way to Beijing, preparing to storm into a place Hernando pictured as a literal fortified palace. But Lito hadn’t looked as on edge when they’d said goodbye at the airport. It wasn’t _his_ first time on a mission like this, a mission where the only acceptable option was to come out alive.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Will told him. “We’re gonna need the energy.”

Hernando nodded, stroking Dani’s hair as she drifted off. “You too.”

Seconds later, they turned to face each other again, a silent admission that they couldn’t.

“I know you’re worried. But Lito knows what he’s doing,” he reassured.

If they weren’t in such a dire situation, Hernando would have smirked at the irony. He used to take pride in being the more put-together of the two, and the way he’d ramble on about his favorite subjects always brought a smile to Lito’s face. Hernando had studied many things, but “ways to prevent a terrorist attack” wasn’t one of them. Lito, on the other hand, was well-versed in matters of life and death.

“That’s why I’m worried,” Hernando confessed. “Knowing a lot about something doesn’t account for all the uncertainties.”

Will sighed, conceding. “It’s the same for Riley and me. She wanted to come along. I didn’t want to put both of us in danger.”

“Lito didn’t want us to go,” Hernando recalled. “He was trying to talk us out of it last night. We were trying to talk him out of it, too. But he told us _he_ had no choice.”

“Mm.” Will tilted his head. “There’s always a choice. But Lito wouldn’t have backed away.”

He had to agree with that. Over the past year, Lito had made it clear that in matters of true heroics, he was no coward.

“Me, neither. Or Dani,” he said. “We wouldn’t have let him fight alone.”

The corners of Will’s lips quirked up into a smile as he looked over at Hernando’s shoulder, observing the way Dani slumped against him, inching closer as she mumbled something in her sleep. Her blanket slipped off her shoulder, and Hernando grabbed the corner before it fell to the ground, tucking her back in.

Hernando, too, was smiling. After spending so long in hiding, wishing the world hadn’t made their relationship so complicated, Hernando found it comforting to talk openly about Lito to someone who knew him equally well, if not more.

“I know there’s no way we’ll be able to account for all the uncertainties,” Will admitted, after a moment of silence. “But that means BPO can’t, either.”

Certainly a sound argument he couldn’t refute. Hernando raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. They don’t know much about us.”

Will nodded at his backpack, inside which he’s tucked away the fake travel documents Nomi and other Veracity hackers had helped procure. They would meet up with more contacts at the luggage claim to pick up their guns. “They don’t know we found out where it’s at,” Will said, keeping his voice low. “We just have to find a way to -” he looked around, making sure no one else sitting nearby was listening in - “get inside. Without raising suspicion.”

A solemn nod. Hernando tried to keep it vague too as he added, “And find the people we’re looking for, before it starts.”

“Nomi sent us pictures,” Will reassured. “It’s not impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” Hernando repeated. 

 _It’s not impossible._ It was something he used to say to himself before he’d start preparing a lesson plan about an artist he knew nothing about. Or something he used to tell his students whenever they shied away from an academic challenge. Never something he thought he’d say en route to a confrontation with brain-controlled assassins, armed, at the moment, with nothing but false identities and an escape plan.

But this was the only way to make the world safe for Lito and the other sensates, it was something Hernando knew he must do.

*

“I know where Kala is.”

Rajan covered the microphone before he swore out loud. He had hoped Ajay would have let things go by now. There were no more Ganesha statues delivered to his apartment, so he had assumed his ex-business partner had taken his negotiations elsewhere. But the past had a way of catching up to him when he least expected it.

“I know you know she’s in Paris,” he tried to stall, clenching his fists. He hoped he had come off as confident. Reassured.

“I have eyes and ears around her hideout,” said Ajay. 

Kala wouldn’t let herself be used as bait like this. She was too smart for that, and he knew either way she would not have gone down without a fight. She wouldn’t. Still, he held back a shudder. “So do I.”

“You’ve been in contact with her?” Ajay sounded surprised. 

Rajan frowned. He’d called the apartment twice more after his last conversation with Kala, but no one had picked up. But the guards Rajan hired had told him the location was secure, so he had assumed she just wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Of course I am. She’s my wife.”

He heard Ajay chuckle. “The guards you hired, they give you daily reports, don’t they? You believe them when they say Kala’s safe?”

“I hired them. I expect them to do their jobs.”

A pause from the other end. He imagined Ajay shrugging. “Circumstances arise. Maybe someone else had bought their allegiance.”

“How do you mean?” Rajan tried to sound unconvinced, nonchalant.

“You don’t know Kala as much as you think, Raj.”

The old nickname made him cringe, and he slammed a fist on his desk and bit back a groan as his muscles clenched in protest. “Who are you to say what I know?”

“Of course, she can’t help it. It’s in her nature. Her DNA.”

Rajan massaged the bridge of his nose. “Is this a threat?”

“A warning. For old time’s sake.”

Rajan sat up in his chair and frowned, listening closely. He didn’t respond, simply held his breath as he waited for the dreaded words to come. 

“My business partners can use your financial support, Raj. If you agree to help, no harm would come to Kala. She can enjoy her little time in Paris, and you two can reunite someday, if that’s what you wish. You know I am a man of my words. And I know you will deliver.”

Ajay hung up before he could get another word in. The phone clattered against Rajan’s desk as he buried his face in his hands. 

He knew Ajay was lying. He had paid a dozen men to secure the hideout, some under aliases, some some dressed as innocent civilians going about their day. No one could possibly identify all of the people he’d hired. Could they?

Agent Singh had told him Ajay didn’t work alone. When he’d heard about the Russian business partner, whose name the federal police had yet to uncover, he had assumed it was simply a person who provided Ajay with funds for his less-than-legal operations. Though now he suspected something larger at play — a higher power behind Ajay that gave him the guts to deliver on his threats.

Ajay made it sound like Kala was targeted by something specific to her, something irrelevant to her relations with Rasal Pharmaceuticals. But what could it be? What was it about Kala that he didn’t know?

If Ajay had been monitoring the hideout as he claimed, calling Kala now would only let him know Rajan had believed his threats. But in a couple days he would try calling her again. And he would get some answers.

*

Will was landing in less than an hour, and Jonas knew Riley was scared for his life.

“I believe Will has shown himself more than capable of handing physical confrontation,” he said, joining Riley on the couch in the living room. 

All was quiet except for the music coming from Leon’s room, muffled by his door. Perhaps the artist was working on his latest painting. Or perhaps loudness was the way he processed his emotions, compared to the deathly silence from the other bedrooms.

“I know.” Riley sighed. “He’s a cop. I know he can fight. But what if -”

Riley stopped herself, but Jonas knew what she wanted to say. He had learned about her past through his connection with Will, and he sympathized with the way her trauma had led her to jump to the worse conclusions.

“You’re afraid to face the worst possible outcome.”

She nodded. 

“I felt the same way with Angelica.”

He saw her flinch. The cluster had seen visions of Angelica killing herself. He knew it wasn’t something they could forget, if his own nightmares were any indication.

“What was her plan? Before she had to -” Riley paused. He knew what she wanted to ask.

“Angelica wanted to fix her mistakes. Her research into _Homo sensorium_ and how it links to the ecosystem may have led to inventions that threatened the existence of all sensates, but she believed she had time to reverse the effects. She wanted to seek out our old allies.”

“Those who believed in El-Saadawi’s idea?”

He nodded. “She wanted to start over. Carry out her research in a way which benefits sensates, rather than assist their annihilation.”

“She turned her back on Whispers,” Riley recalled. _Five years ago,_ he’d told them. He wasn’t surprised they hung onto every word.

“After Sara Patrell, she started questioning his ways. When he assassinated members of a cluster who once worked with Dr El-Saadawi, it was the final straw. He reminded her of the neural graft, all the things her research had accomplished, to try and convince her to stay loyal to his cause, because he believed the benefits outweighed the costs.”

“ _There will always be unfortunate necessities_ ** _*_** ,” Riley recalled. “That’s what he told Will.”

“Angelica was beginning to realize what it would cost to see her research come to fruition. But she wanted to find a way to go around it — to carry out her research outside of BPO’s influence and avoid the consequences. She was a visionary. And she used to believe Whispers was the same.”

Jonas remembered the times she’d wake him in the middle of the night to discuss a new theory of how _Homo sensorium_ came to be, and how many other secrets about their species they had yet to uncover. _I hope to understand us one day,_ she’d say to him as they trekked the woods near her cabin at night, hunting for inspiration. _And then I’ll find a way for the sapiens to do the same. For sapiens and sensates to understand each other._

Riley was silent now. She leaned back on the couch to look up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Jonas was curious to hear what she was thinking, but he had been meticulous with his Blocker dosage in case of a slip-up from his end.

The truth had a way of revealing itself, he knew. But now wasn’t the right time.

It was incredible how one person’s death could change people in so many ways. He’d seen it in Will’s determination to get to the truth, and he’d heard Angelica’s revelation about the perils of her research. Obligate mutualism played out a lot better in theory, but to enforce it among humans who had spent centuries driving each other apart in the most brutal ways? It would be challenging, if not impossible. And perhaps the more people investigated what made sensates and _sapiens_ different, the more it would drive them apart.

He’d witnessed it in Lila. After her rebirth she’d jumped at the chance to assist in BPO’s mission, in their research to determine what made her and the rest of her cluster different. Her eagerness, born out of a need to validate her superiority, had led to her downfall. Learning about sensacity had driven a wall between Lila and other _sapiens_. And other sensates, too.

Riley turned to look at him. He sometimes suspected Riley could read his thoughts, more so after Mavis told him about her gift with memory-seeking. Riley had a way of sensing people’s needs. It made her a good friend, a thoughtful cluster-mate. And, he admitted to himself, a most unexpected but powerful enemy, should she find herself in conflict.

“Jonas, do you think it is ever possible for sensates and sapiens to get along?”

“Fear is a powerful thing. Not everyone in society will be accepting of our differences, judging by the brutal _sapien_ history throughout the centuries, all over the world. But there will always be people who are open to change, the driving forces of societal breakthroughs. The _sapien_ allies you have now, Riley, will be crucial to the obligate mutualism in a future society where the existence of sensates is known.”

“How long will it take?” she asked, more to herself than to him.

“Like any progress in society, it would be slow. And I suspect Veronika’s exposure plan had given her and other anti-sensate _sapiens_ a head start.”

“But it’s not the whole story,” said Riley. “Someone needs to tell the world the truth.”

“They do,” he agreed. “Angelica would have wanted the same thing.”

“What about you?”

“I believe,” Jonas chose his next words carefully, echoing his thoughts without giving away too much, “the truth has a way of revealing itself.”

He hoped Riley’s cluster — and Lila’s — would be there to witness the unmasking, should the day come. And, if he was fortunate, he would be there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** From S2E5, “Fear Never Fixed Anything”: _There will always be unfortunate necessities during the construction of a monument such as this._
> 
> * * *
> 
> Ha! No action yet. Sorry! But our Sense8 children are full of woes, so conversations must commence, and what better place to do it than in an isolated contraption high up in the air before a battle? 
> 
> Next chapter, I assure you, will be action-packed! Who can't wait for the next update? (I ask as I raise my own hand, before I realize I have to be the one to edit and update it. I put my hand it down before anyone can see it.)
> 
> Also, as a proud beta/mentor-mother-figure (fancy that!), I am proud to announce that a new fic writer has been born into our wonderful cluster of a fandom! So if you haven't felt enough pain from this update or from Veracity in general, head on over to @greenmountaingirl's story "Kala's Wedding" for more. I'll give you free Kleenex and hugs if you do! 
> 
> (And she's got other WIPs and so far they are looking like my worst angst nightmare - so naturally I CAN'T WAIT TO READ THEM.)


	20. They say the bad guys wear black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two fights take place, a few identities are revealed, and people talk things out.
> 
> “Showdown, shootout, spread fear within, without  
> We're gonna take what’s ours to have  
> Spread the word throughout the land  
> They say the bad guys wear black  
> We’re tagged and can’t turn back.”  
> — From “Cowboys from Hell”, by Pantera (S1E6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO'S READY FOR SOME ACTION?

**July 20, 2017**

“There are four soldiers,” Pelzer told Kiira, shutting the door behind them. Locking her in. “We each take two. Shoot as much necessary.”

It was getting harder and harder to pull a Mavis, to try and irritate the Headhunter the best she could. “Never thought I’d hear someone say this out loud,” she remarked, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as the rest of her body. “You’re really lowering the bar for human decency, with all these attacks.”

He glowered, but didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Kiira glanced around the stark white room. It looked like a dentist’s office, with two reclining chairs instead of one. And instead of lamps over the chairs, there were wired caps with nodes on the joint intersections — EEG caps. The counters around the room were cleared of all objects. She wondered if she could find something weapon-like from a drawer.

Of course, all this would prove to be taxing when her hands were literally tied. 

“Is this necessary?” she asked, raising her cuffed wrists right under his view.

“Don’t be smart with me,” he growled. He took out the gun tucked under his belt and aimed it at her head. “Sit down.” He cocked his head to the reclining chair. 

Slowly, she obliged. She inched up the chair, leaning her back against the recliner, and felt Pelzer grab her handcuff. He uncuffed one of her wrists and bolted that cuff to the armrest of the reclining chair. Gray eyes piercing in a scalpel-sharp gaze as he glared, daring her to try and make a break for it.

“The match starts in fifteen minutes,” he said, leaning on the stool next to her recliner. He grabbed her free wrist with his hand, sneering as she let out a small gasp in protest. “And you will make your move when I tell you to.”

Pelzer reached up and pulled down the EEG cap, cold against Kiira’s head, pressing her hair against her skull. The nodes on the cap tingled as she registered their presence, buzzing in anticipation like a predator taunting prey.

*

Of course Mavis to remembered to bring disguises. 

By that point, Dani wasn’t surprised when the younger woman pulled out her makeup bag and two wigs from her backpack. Will and Hernando opted for hoodies and sunglasses. They had to meet a trader from the Archipelago for the guns they’d requested at baggage claim, and so, to keep up appearances, they all checked in their bags.

And now, fully armed again, with tickets Nomi had printed in hand, they wandered outside the Shanghai Stadium, debating how they could get in with guns in tow when there were airport-style security checks lined up in front of all the entrances. Dani swore under her breath. Most of the audience had already gone in. It was getting dark, and the tennis match was starting in ten minutes.

“Oh yeah, I forgot how obsessed China was with security,” said Mavis. “Can’t get inside anywhere without getting scanned. Even the subway.”

Will and Hernando resisted the urge groan. Dani muttered _ay_ under her breath. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” asked Will.

“Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind. It’s been a while. I was _five_ when I left.”

As if to answer their prayers, a black car turned around the corner. Someone from inside the stadium went over and opened the door, holding it open for three men in suits, who marched out of the car and made their ways into a VIP entrance.

“ _Aha_ ,” Mavis muttered, under her breath. She beckoned the three of them close, and nodded at the entrance where two men stood guard on either side of the door. “Right, I think we might have to pull a Lito.”

It would appear Lito’s trickster-y ways had caught on with his cluster and allies. If lives weren’t at stake, Dani would have laughed.

“Ooh, I got it,” Mavis said, turning to Hernando and Dani. “You two, go up to them and pretend you’re lost foreigners.” 

She pulled out a small writing pad from her bag and a ballpoint pen, and jotted down a random address using an apparently child-like scrawl. She added a phone number underneath for good measure.

“Here, ask them for directions to this non-existent street. Will and I will hide, knock them out when they’re distracted.”

Dani took the slip of paper from Mavis and looked at the fake address. From her knowledge she couldn’t tell if they were real characters. “You expect them to buy it?”

A shrug. “You’re foreign. They’ll think you made a mistake when you’re copying this. And trust me, people _love_ to help foreigners.”

She proved to be right, for as Dani and Hernando pointed emphatically at the piece of paper and asked for direction to this made-up place with careful English, the guard they approached gestured the other guard to come over and try and decipher what these “foreigners” wrote. A few seconds later they were out cold, knocked out by their own batons, courtesy of Will.

The two of them stared at the crumpled, limp forms of the guards, but Mavis and Will sauntered past without batting an eye. _Fucking hell_. It was like they’d done this before. They probably had. Lito probably had, too.

“Who knew my Chinese lessons could come in handy?” Mavis remarked, ushering the two of them in with a wave of her hand. As they exchanged looks of horror and followed suit, Dani wondered if she’d ever get used to Lito’s cluster and their ally’s vigilante ways.

Luckily they spotted some men in suits making their ways to what looked like the viewing platform. Someone in the hallway stared at the four of them as they made to follow suit. Mavis turned to Dani, nodding as she looked between them and the suspecting man. With a smirk, Dani raised her head high, eyeing the others to follow suit. 

They tried to act like they belonged there, even though they had no idea whose match they were seeing. Thankfully they passed without any more problems, and before long, they were scanning the front rows for potential Bolgers.

“How’d you know they’d be sitting in VIP seats?” Hernando whispered.

“They’re gonna be armed,” said Will. “Can’t smuggle those in with all that security.”

Only half the seats were filled by the time the game began, and they considered themselves lucky BPO didn’t choose a hardcore match with world-famous players. They found four unoccupied adjacent seats in the third row to keep an eye out. They’d thought to look for the signature scars across someone’s forehead, but almost every other person in the audience seemed to be wearing a baseball cap with a logo up front, unfortunately covering their foreheads. Damn those rip-off souvenir shops.

One player scored fifteen. The viewers cheered, some standing up to wave their hands and scream in joy. The perfect opportunity for a man in a sports jacket in the first row to stand. and aim a gun at the audience behind him.

Before Dani could yell out in warning, Will had already leapt over the second row seats and tackled the Bolger shooter to the ground, wrestling the gun off him. He shot the Bolger as the people nearby screamed. The audience in their row scampered away towards the exits as the audience from the rows above moved closer to the source of the gunshot, talking over each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

*

Through the eyes of the lobotomized woman she was commanding, Kiira watched as the second soldier under Pelzer’s control snuck up behind Mavis. 

The soldier her cluster-mate was currently battling was under Kiira’s control. Kiira tried to make his arm go slightly limp and give Mavis a better chance of winning without Pelzer’s notice. As she did so, she felt a jab of pain in the back of her skull. _Kill her,_ said Pelzer, _or you will be the one to die._

Kiira would prefer they both lived, so she tried to reach out to her cluster-mate in their shared mind. She could make out faint whispers of Mavis’ voice, shadows of the thoughts running through her head. Mavis’ Blocker must not have worn off completely: Kiira couldn’t get in a word of warning before she felt another burst of pain in her head, felt another pinch on her handcuff-bruised wrist. 

So she uttered a silent apology as she made the soldier elbow Mavis on the shoulder. She knew Mavis had learned to shoot, though physical confrontations, namely wrestling, was hardly her strong suit. Mavis was batting the attacker’s pistol away with frantic jabs of her fist, while her other hand grabbed at the man’s wrist, trying to twist his right arm around and make him drop his weapon before he could fire. 

Kiira’s consciousness was with the lobotomized soldier at the sports stadium in Shanghai, but back in the Beijing facility, she felt a cold pistol pressed against her temple, in between two wires of the EEG cap wrapped around the top of her head. 

 _Stay on task,_ Pelzer warned, his voice in her head giving her goosebumps. She felt him grab her wrist tight, his calloused hands bruising her flesh, threatening to break her bone. _Let your soldier sit still, lay low. Don’t stand up to shoot until I signal._

The pistol was still against her temple when she felt Pelzer’s mind drift away. The soldier Pelzer was controlling was a mere foot away from Mavis now. Kiira wanted to call out. She tried to command the woman she controlled to open her mouth, before she realized lobotomized sensates could not speak.

A man in large glasses and a beard threw a punch at the sneak-attacker from the side, knocking him over, and Kiira resisted the urge to cheer, knowing Pelzer could still fire his gun. She watched as a woman rushed to help the bearded man, whom she called _Hernando_ , and together they wrestled the gun from his hands. Pelzer was much more advanced with his ability to command his soldiers, and he made his soldier crawl back to a standing position and take out the army knife tucked in his belt.

Hernando raised the gun he took from the soldier, but his hand was shaking so much, it didn’t look like he could shoot. 

The soldier was advancing, the blade pointed to Hernando’s stomach, almost making contact with his body. The woman came to his aid. She pulled out her own gun from her purse, aimed with a practiced precision before Pelzer could make the soldier could react, and pulled the trigger. She didn’t flinch as the bullet pierced right through the center of the soldier’s neck.

Kiira heard Pelzer swear as his soldier crumpled into the ground.

Mavis, too, had figured out a way to unarm her opponent. After much struggle, she was able to corner him. He tried to raise his arm and shoot Mavis in the torso. With a grit of her teeth, Mavis kicked his groin, and he recoiled in pain. She took the opportunity to push his hand so his gun was pressed against his ribcage. And, her finger over his, she pushed the trigger, and watched the blood seep out from the wound without a change in her expression.

The security guards rushed down the aisle, and it was time for Mavis and her allies to make a break for it. Mavis slipped from the guards’ notice, as most of their manpower was focused on the man with the dusty hair — _Will_ , she recalled from Capheus’ memory. Someone had probably witnessed him shoot a man dead and reported him.

Three lobotomized soldiers dead. Kiira’s was the last one left.

Kiira felt Pelzer tug at her arm. _Go,_ he whispered, his breath fogging up against her ear, making the ends of her hair stand up. 

She made her soldier stand. No one noticed. With Pelzer watching, she suppressed the urge to let the desperation overwhelm her senses. Glancing around, she couldn’t find the bearded man and his woman companion anywhere. She hoped they’d escaped, too.

 _Shoot,_ Pelzer whispered. 

 _Shoot who?_ Kiira asked, trying to delay the inevitable.

He sent forth an image of Will. _Him, you foolish girl. Then the guards._

Kiira was running out of options. She had faith Capheus’ allies would have figured out where she was. But if she didn’t do anything, Pelzer would no doubt have pulled the trigger on her. Then she’d be dead. So would Will, once Pelzer took control of the soldier’s body.

She tried to keep her mind blank as she made her soldier raise the gun to the level of Will’s head, _slowly_. Someone shouted _hey!_ behind the woman she was commanding. She felt Pelzer’s clutch on her wrist again. _Shoot!_ Pelzer thought. _Now. Or I will shoot you._

As she pulled the trigger, she tilted her chin up, commanding the woman’s hand to do the same. The bullet flew right above where Will’s head was and hit the wall behind him. A noteworthy enough distraction for the security guards to turn their heads, for Will to break away from their clutches and make a dash for the exit.

Back in the Beijing facility, Kiira slid down in her reclining chair as Pelzer pulled the trigger, his bullet missing her head by a mere inch. She tried to squirm away and make a run for it, but Pelzer’s hand was tight around her wrist. His scarred face twisted into a sneer as he pushed his pistol against her forehead, ready to shoot again -

Only to turn away at the sound of someone kicking the door open. In shock, he let his hand slip, dropping the pistol as he took in the sight of three figures in Hazmat suits storming in. 

It gave Kiira an opportunity to yank her arm away from him. She slid off the chair, dropped to the ground on her knees, and crawled to take cover behind the reclining chair, as best she could with her left wrist still cuffed to the armrest. A fight between the three figures and Pelzer commenced as more BPO guards rushed in to the Headhunter’s aid, and Kiira reached to pull open the only drawer on the side she could reach, praying she could fish out some sort of weapon before one of the BPO guards noticed.

*

Sun found it exhilarating to be back in action.

Bulky Hazmat suits aside, she thought one person against four guards was a bit of an easy start. Still, she gave it all her might, using one guard as a human shield as she fought off the other two. It was a little challenging to get rid of the guards when there were no railings from which they could fall to their potential deaths. She’d have to make do with knocking them unconscious, to her disappointment.

The other voices became a blur as she twirled her body, using her limbs as traps to snare her opponents in place before she threw them down. She thought she heard Felix and an unfamiliar woman’s voice, one that in all likelihood belonged to Kiira. He was shielding her from the blows of the guards, batting them off as best he could with the baton they’d nicked from the security guard at the front desk.

Another grab at her shoulder. Sun turned and punched the attacker in the face.

Lito roared from the door before he rushed in and went straight for Pelzer, tackling him down. As strong as the Headhunter might have been, no one could withstand the impact from another grown man’s body. Judging by the _thud_ (Sun thought as she threw another guard — or maybe it was the same one, she didn’t bother to remember faces — over her head), the two men had taken their fight to the ground. 

She heard Spanish curses mixed with German. The men were probably rolling around, trying to have a go at the other person’s head, or vital organs. Or both. 

It was lucky the Hazmat suits came with a bit of head protection.

She heard a gun go off and suppressed a cringe — the Headhunter, who Lito was fighting, was the most likely one to carry such a weapon — though the bullet sounded like it hit some kind of metal. So Sun allowed herself a three-second pause as she stood up higher and looked around for her cluster-mate. 

Lito was grabbing Pelzer’s wrist, pushing the direction of the gun Pelzer held away from doing any harm. Turning around again, Sun saw no more guards making a go at her, though Felix was still fighting off two guards from where he crouched, shielding Kiira as best he could with his lean body. Kiira was crouched in a fetal position, protecting her head and torso from the direct line of hit — a clever means of self-defense.

The obvious choice, of course, was to help Lito. She leapt right in front of both of them and kneeled, made a grab for Pelzer’s forearm, twisting his arm 180-degrees towards the outside. There was a crunch as the Headhunter yelped in pain. Pelzer tried to kick Sun with his leg, but Lito straight up sat on top of his kneecaps, pushing him down with his weight. 

Sun made eye contact with Lito — or as best she could, anyway, through the visors on their stolen Hazmat suits — and nodded. 

Turning to face Pelzer, she pushed herself up and kicked his head. His head hit against the foot of the recliner chair, and lolled when she let go of his arm. Lito stood up as well. 

Pelzer didn’t move. He appeared to be unconscious. 

The guards who were attacking Felix and Kiira decided Sun and Lito made for better targets. As Sun tried to dodge the attacks from one man, finding him a surprisingly adequate fighter, compared to the others, Lito was having a bit of trouble with his opponent. Before she knew it, the guard had pinned Lito’s arm behind his back. Felix came to his aid, throwing a punch at the guard’s face. The guard’s grip around Lito’s arms tightened as he turned his head away, his nose sprouting blood.

When she had her back turned to look at Lito, the guard Sun was fighting threw a punch from behind. It would have knocked her out, had she not moved her head a little to the right on instinct. She turned and grabbed the guard’s left arm, pulling it over her shoulder, twisting until she heard a snap. Screaming, he nonetheless wrapped his leg around hers, kicking her thigh with the bulk of his heel. 

Sun reached her other arm behind and searched for the weapon tucked under his belt. Feeling a handle, she pried it out before elbowing him on the stomach, knocking him to the ground. But she didn’t find a trigger. Because the guards didn’t carry guns.

They carried tasers.

Her fingers located the button, and the man was holding his broken arm, inching away from her as best his could. Before she could make the probes shoot out, she felt a shudder. Her arm convulsed as if _she_ was about to be electrocuted — or already had been — as she felt a faint echo of pain, a tug on the skin underneath her chest. 

It was like the probes had jabbed themselves into _her_ skin. Like they did on her last night in prison, during a fight she’d mostly forgotten, the memory shoved away in a corner of her mind. She remembered the metal piercing her skin. She remembered feeling like her muscles were ripped apart from the inside with a sharp hook. And then she’d fallen unconscious. _Vulnerable_. Her body at the mercy of the men who had tried to kill her and almost succeeded.

Her breaths came out short, but there wasn’t enough air, and each time she gasped their chest constricted a little tighter. She could feel a pounding inside her chest and a buzzing inside her head. Tiny light dots were flickering in and out of her vision. Tingles crawled up her skin as she became numb, forcing her to stay in place like she’d frozen.

The guard she was aiming at was inching further away, towards the direction of the door. He was trying to stand up. 

She was _losing_. 

Sun felt Lito’s hand on her shoulder, a slow, gentle pat. He was whispering something in her ear, though the words sounded far away. Lito pried the taser from her hand enough so the button was exposed, and held her arm steady as the wires and probes shot out and latched themselves onto the guard. Sun closed her eyes when the BPO guard began convulsing, feeling the pounding in her chest like echoes in a cave too dark for her to see. She didn’t know how long it took for echoes to fade. 

When she came to her senses again she realized she could move, and there was no taser in her hand. She turned her head in time to see Pelzer — _Pelzer?_ she though she’d knocked him out — grab Lito by the collar and shove him against a corner. And rip off the mask, exposing his face in its entirety.

“ _Lito Rodriguez,_ ” Pelzer rasped, spitting blood from his mouth. “What a surprise.”

Before Pelzer could rip the taser away from Lito’s hand, Sun knocked him out from the side, and his head hit the wall before he slid down. Unconscious for real this time.

“Let’s go,” Sun said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. It did.

She offered her hand to Lito and pulled him back to a standing position. They exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything else. They made to head out after Felix picked the lock of Kiira’s handcuff with a paperclip he found and freed her from the reclining chair, helping her up. Before Felix and Kiira could follow suit, Kiira tugged her arm free from Felix’s hold. She pulled open a drawer and fished out a scalpel.

And raised it above Pelzer’s head.

In an instant Mavis and Will appeared, their Blockers apparently worn off. Sun heard footsteps and shoutings some distance away inside the building, more BPO guards rushing to their coworkers’ rescue. Still, Kiira didn’t step away. She crouched down, hoping to get a better aim at the Headhunter’s temple.

 _Kiira._ Mavis stepped forward, crouching down next to Kiira, grabbing her forearm, avoiding the bruised parts near her wrist. _You have to move. They’re coming for you._

“Not before I finish.”

Sun nearly doubled back upon hearing the tone in Kiira’s soft, lowered voice, so similar yet so different to the version in the memory Capheus shared. The look in her eyes — dark brown, hardened — sent a shiver up her spine. Never in Sun’s imagination could she’s imagine a woman with Shiro’s warm smile shoot daggers with her voice.

 _They’ll catch you,_ Mavis tried again. _Please. Listen. They’re coming._ Leave _. Now._

 _Kiira -_ Will made a move to crouch down, too, but Mavis shook her head. _It’s sensible, Kiira, come on,_ she tried again. 

Kiira paused and turned to Mavis, frowning.

 _Kill him when there’s no one else to catch you for what you’ve done,_ Mavis thought.

“But what if we -”

_He’ll be there. When we find the Chairman and the others. He’s gotta be there too._

The cluster-mates looked each other in the eye. Mavis gave Kiira a slow nod. _Trust me. You trust me, don’t you?_

After a second, Kiira stood, tossing the scalpel on the ground as she dashed out the door after Sun, Lito and Felix. She shot one last glare Pelzer’s way as they reached the emergency staircase, barely out of sight as BPO guards rounded the corner.

*

Felix swerved the van around the lanes without a care in the world.

Lito wondered if he’d picked up driving techniques from Capheus after their last mission when they’d rescued Wolfgang. He would’ve asked if he wasn’t so fucking scared for his life. Kiira was next to him, clutching their shared seat belts like it was a lifeline — there were only three seats up front in the van, and they had to squeeze. 

On their right, Sun turned to look at the side mirror outside her window. “They’re coming closer,” she said, the shaking in her voice from earlier completely gone.

Swearing, Felix slammed his foot on the pedal, but the BPO car seemed to have beat them to it. The black car passed by too quickly for Lito to make out what model it was. A race car, no doubt. Fuck race cars and their impossible speed limits.

The car turned and parked horizontally in front of them, blocking the highway. They hadn’t made it onto the main road to the airport yet. There were no cars behind them.

Out came a security guard in a ski mask who pointed their long-ranger at the driver’s window, right in the direction where Felix’s head was. Lito heard him whimper. The driver from the BPO car came out as well, dressed in identical disguises, rounding their way over to join their companion.

The first guard pulled at the collar of their jacket, and when they spoke again, their voice was magnified, booming across the road.

“Out. Hands above your head,” they said. They pronounced each word in a clear-cut American accent, though their slight roll of the _r_ made Lito frown. There was something familiar about the way the guard spoke, he thought as he followed his other three allies out the car, hands raised as instructed.

The guard walked closer until they were an arm’s length from Sun, who looked like she wanted to lunge for their throat. Then the driver stumbled on their way to join their fellow guard, and Lito heard them mutter _shit_ under their breath as they clung to the front of the car, trying not to fall over entirely.

To Lito and the others’ surprise, the first guard rolled their eyes like their colleague’s clumsiness was a simple inconvenience, before letting out a small chuckle. They walked over and hauled their fellow guard up by the armpit. As Sun made a move to attack, the first guard grabbed the top of their ski mask and started pulling it off. Curious, Sun halted.

The mask came off to reveal a woman with short brown curly hair that stopped right below her ears, which bounced a little as a breeze drifted by. She beckoned the driver over and pulled on their mask, her other hand patting a little dust off their shoulder. 

“Andy, honey,” she put on a playful tone of annoyance as the second mask lifted to reveal a man with short, sandy hair, “always so clumsy. _Ay_ , what to do with you.”

The four of them stood there in shock, before turning to each other, frowning as they tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. Lito opened his mouth to say something, but all he could do was croak as he pointed a shaky finger at the woman.

“The other cars are gonna catch up with us in -” the woman checked her watch, unfazed by their lack of verbal responses - “ _dios mío_ , three minutes. Alright, come with us, all of you. Gotta ditch your van.”

She beckoned the driver closer, pecking him on the cheek before saying, “Better go turn on the engine, Andy. Gonna have to drive faster.” Then, turning back to the four of them, “ _Hola_ , Lito. And friends.”

Lito hadn’t seen her with short hair since she’d turned six and her mamá had insisted she grew it out. But the impish twinkle in her brown eyes was unmistakable. She winked, greeting her best friend with a mischievous smirk.

“ _María?_ ”

*

The authorities hadn’t caught up after Will, Mavis, Hernando and Dani escaped from the Shanghai Stadium, and their flight was boarding in half an hour. It was the nearest one Nomi could book — she’d phoned and told them she’d picked the flight with two layovers around Europe before Paris, to throw potential stalkers off their trail. 

Dani and Mavis returned from the restroom with new disguises in place, and Will and Hernando changed out of their incriminating clothes. After their escape, some Veracity agents had picked them up at the rendezvous point. While three of them exchanged pleasantries and information with the agents, Dani had been silent.

The last time she’d fired a gun was over a year ago, at a movie set where she worked with Lito. It only shot blanks, and the guys from special effects took care of the blood. The last time she fired a _real_ gun was before she’d left home for college. She’d been relieved to think she never had to do it again.

As Mavis and Will fell into a hushed conversation, Hernando turned to her with a questioning look. She forced a smile, a half-heartedly one.

“Dani,” he started, his voice gentle, “what happened back there was -”

“Please don’t.”

A sigh. “Okay, so I didn’t know you could shoot. I mean I did think maybe you could, but I never pictured - what I mean is, it doesn’t change anything.”

“ _Ay_ , Hernando, don’t -”

“Dani.” He put his hand on her shoulder, prompting her to turn and look at him. 

He looked at her with concern and tilted his head slightly, waiting for her consent before he spoke again, ever the gentleman. She nodded. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know… what you did, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“I never thought I’d have to do that again,” she confessed, after a few moment’s pause.

“You’ve done it before,” he observed. “Your family?”

Dani nodded. 

“Of course.” She scoffed. “Who else?”

She’d learned to shoot a gun when she was nine, at the gun range at her father’s country club. Javier, one of her father’s bodyguards, had taught her. She’d wondered why her father was so insistent she learned how to shoot.

When she’d acquired a decent aim, Javier had taken her hunting in the woods in Northern California. She’d flinched when she saw the deer, bouncing about, hunting for food in an air of utter bliss that weren’t meant to be broken. She’d wanted to dash back to the car, but Javier had grabbed her arm, forcing her to aim. His hand over hers, he’d pulled the trigger. 

After the deer dropped dead, Javier had grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, crouching to look her in the eye as she felt herself tearing up. _Your father doesn’t tolerate weakness,_ he’d growled. _And you’ve a lot left to learn, before you can take over._

With his sharp gaze bearing down on her, he’d dared her to cry. 

She didn’t. 

Hunting made a good actress out of her. As she got older, she was able to convince Javier, and other men who worked for her father, that she no longer cared about taking a life. She was almost able to convince herself.

She’d also come to realize the reason her father was keen for her to learn to shoot. And no matter how much she pretended it didn’t bother her, she knew she could never be like them.

“You don’t have to tell me why,” Hernando repeated, putting his hands over hers. Dani noticed his hands were warm, and hers were close to freezing. “I - I understand. What you did before. What you did tonight.”

It was ironic, really. The further she thought she’d escaped from a life intertwined with her family’s affairs, the closer it brought her to another painful reminder of her past. “I thought I’d never _have to_ shoot again.”

A tilt of his head. “Bad memories?”

“You could say so. Makes me feel like one of _them_.”

A nod. Hernando didn’t need her to elaborate. She didn’t know why she was still nervous to talk about her family in front of her partners, after the shit they’d seen.

“You saved me back there, Dani,” he said. “What you did, you used it for good.”

She tried to smile, the corners of her lips quirking. But she couldn’t stop the frown from forming as he put his arm around her, their heads touching. Hernando looked at her and saw she was lost in thought. He didn’t pry, didn’t ask any more questions, simply waited for her to speak when she was ready.

Dani remembered the last time she’d pulled a trigger and saw real blood. She’d never been asked to shoot a person, but her father had gone with her to the woods before she left for college and asked her to demonstrate what she’d learned. She’d prayed no deer would show up that day. Nonetheless, when one dashed out from behind some trees, her instincts from years of practice had kicked in. She’d aimed with a decisive jerk of her arm before her brain could register what she was doing.

She’d pulled the trigger. It hit the deer right between the eyes, and there was a second where she and the deer looked at each other. She’d mouthed a silent apology as it collapsed.

 _Good, Daniela,_ her father had said, clapping her on the shoulder. _You are ready._

She’d nodded, turning to face him, keeping her facial expressions unchanged. She may have been ready, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. As long as she had another choice.

“I know I’m not like them,” she told Hernando. “But every time I do this, it reminds me of my family. The way I was raised, the things I did.” _Things I had no choice in doing_.

“I’m sorry, Dani,” he said. “I’m sorry I made you do it again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, silly,” she tried to lighten the mood, punching him lightly on the shoulder as she sniffled. “He was gonna stab you. I wouldn’t have let you -” _die. I can’t lose you_ \- “get hurt.”

“I know.” He pulled her into a hug, rubbing a hand on her shoulder. “You saved me. You saved me," he repeated, watching her smile grow wider. "My hero.”

*

As Dani and Hernando talked, Will turned to Mavis with a raised eyebrow. “So,” he said, “wanna talk about what happened back there?”

A shrug. “Which part?”

“You know which.”

“Fine.” She looked at him. “They were running out of time. Kiira and the others would’ve been caught if she’d stayed to do her little -” she made a stabbing motion with her fist, moving her arm down in an arc.

“That’s not all.”

He thought she was going to keep denying, but she sighed, giving in. 

“Look. The moment I signed up for all _this_ -” Mavis gestured to herself, to Will and Dani and Hernando, and waved her fake passport in her hand - “this spying business, I knew there’s no going back. Yeah, I wanted to get rid of all the freaking Headhunters, and go home, and live a long, normal life — maybe with Gabriel, but that’s a discussion for the future _way_ ahead of me — without creeps trying to spy on me from inside my head.”

Will couldn’t help chuckling. Mavis, giving in, let out a chuckle of her own.

“ _But_ ,” she continued, “I’d be lying if I said I expect to come back as same person I was two years ago. That’d be nuts. I literally killed someone -” she ran a hand through her hair in frustration - “okay, _two_ people, one of which was _not_ a Bolger, and honestly? It’s not something I thought I would’ve done, like, ever.”

Will nodded. There were lots of things he never thought he’d end up doing, but all his old morals went out the window the moment he decided to break protocol visit Jonas, a convicted terrorist, after he’d gotten the man captured.

“Yeah, this whole tug-o-war with BPO’s screwing us up big time,” Mavis echoed his thought. He could tell she’d been watching him, reading his expressions. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did mess up back there. I could’ve let Pelzer just… _die_. Could’ve done everyone a favor. They could’ve had time to escape — I didn’t know.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“That’s the thing.” She looked him in the eye. “It wasn’t _me_. It was Kiira.”

Realization dawned on him. “You don’t want her to be the one who -” he didn’t finish his sentence. Mavis knew what he was going to say, anyway.

“We were connected. I could’ve taken over and done the stabbing for her. But did you see Kiira back there? She was ready to kill him herself. She didn’t want my help. Probably would’ve pushed me out if I’d tried to take over and take the blame.”

He remembered the way Kiira’s dark eyes had hardened as she’d raised a scalpel above the fallen Headhunter, the blade a mere inches from his throat.

“That’s not _her_ ,” Mavis continued. “That’s not the Kiira I know.”

“Maybe this war’s changed her too.”

“Could be,” she conceded. “But I -” she groaned, leaning back on her chair, tilting her head to look up at the ceiling as she searched for her next words. “I didn’t want to admit she may have changed, okay? I’ve known Kiira for four years. She wasn’t - _isn’t_ \- the murdering type. Hell, she wants to be a _surgeon_. She wants to help people.”

He smiled, remembering how proud Capheus had felt when he told his cluster about Kiira after their meeting at the café, beaming for hours afterwards. He’d said Kiira took after Shiro. And a little bit of him, too. Maybe. 

None of the cluster could imagine her killing people. 

“I guess it was selfish of me,” Mavis admitted. “It’s Kiira’s first time being in the middle of all this. And I know no matter how fucked up Pelzer is, no matter how much he deserves to die, if she’d killed him, she would’ve lived with the guilt for years.”

She would have. Will certainly did. No matter how many times he convinced himself killing was the only choice, sometimes.

“And the whole mix of guilt and satisfaction from killing someone for revenge?” Mavis continued, “It changes people. Too late for me, now, but I didn’t want it to happen to Kiira.”

“It’s not too late for you.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been spying for two years, Will. I don’t even know how I’m gonna get my normal life back. I didn’t actually finish high school before I joined Veracity, you know? It’s gonna be so weird. I’ve been gone for too long.”

“Not Kiira, though,” she continued. “She has a future she’s built for herself. A life she can go back to. I didn’t know if tonight would’ve ruined it for her, if she’d gone through with the stabbing. Could’ve turned her on a completely different path. But -”

“You’d rather not find out,” he finished for her.

Mavis nodded. “Way I see it, if we’re gonna take down BPO soon anyway, chances are we’re gonna run into Pelzer again. So it’d be better for both our sakes if I’m the one to kill him then. And I will. There’s no way I’m gonna let him get away with what he did.”

“No Headhunter’s gonna get away with this,” Will promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”


	21. When you can feel nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which several people work out their problems, and Jonas is up to who knows what.
> 
> “Killing is easy when you can feel nothing.”  
> — From S1E10, “What is human?”

******July 22, 2017**

“Riley Blue!” greeted a familiar voice as the cluster and allies began their now-familiar breakfast routine. 

Riley saw the flash of orange hair and sighed at the sight of the Australian: studded leather jacket and distressed jeans with chains, a wink and a shit-eating grin. And a huge messenger bag slung over one shoulder, fully packed.

“What are you doing here?” asked Will, standing in front of Riley.

Leon walked into the kitchen after Puck. “No worries, mate. He’s with me. The Archipelago sent him over.” 

“Bowling ball.” Puck said to Will. “And friends. Cluster-mates, I presume?”

Mavis strolled into the kitchen and groaned at the sight of Puck. 

“ _You’re_ playing messenger now?”

“The Archipelago didn’t send me here to talk, Mayve.” She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “They need a chemist.”

“More traders disappeared?” asked Henrik, who turned from the stove where he was cooking, skillet still in his hand. 

“Opposite problem, actually. New supply o’ Blockers came in some days ago. Got some new volunteer traders, too. But the Blockers did anything _but_ blockin’.”

“What do you mean?” asked Capheus. He was standing by the toaster with a breakfast tray, collecting food to send to Kiira’s room. 

The woman in question had been sleeping for the past twelve hours or so. The rescue mission had been taxing for all people involved, Kiira most of all — when they’d brought her in yesterday, she looked like she hadn’t rested in days. 

“Sensates are disappearing. More than before. Right after they received the new supply, from the new traders in our midst.”

Kala froze in her track on her way to the fridge. “The Reciphorum. Oh, no.”

“They used it as a tracker,” Nomi added, two mugs of coffee in hand. Next to her, Amanita muttered _shit_ under her breath.

“Seems you know more about this drug than I do. I’m off to the lab, makin’ _real_ Blockers.” He turned to look at Kala, gesturing to his bag before he moved towards the stairs. “I came prepared. Care to join me, love?”

*

_“Neuroscientists from the Biological Preservation Organization believe the violent episodes at the tennis match in Shanghai Stadium three days ago were a side-effect of the same fatal epigenetic brain mutation responsible for the death of seven patients in California…”_

The sound of the news reporter’s voice reverberated through the hallway. The television was set on the highest volume so people in the basement could hear the update. Will had shut himself back into his room following breakfast. His Blocker was wearing off, and with the newest development, he hoped he could find his way into Whispers’ mind again and try to figure out BPO’s next move.

Alas, the Headhunter thought with a chuckle, he and Gorski had the same idea.

Upon hearing his thoughts, Will tensed, tightening the straps of the blindfold around his eyes. It was getting harder to remove himself from inside Will’s head, to visit and deduce his surroundings. Admittedly, it was a significant setback. But judging by the shiver running through Will’s body, it was likely the ex-officer was more distressed by their new connection dynamics than he was.

He could use it to his advantage.

 _Good morning, Officer Gorski,_ he thought, doing his best impression of a whisper through their minds. He felt Will shift in his seat and stiffen his posture.

 _Huh._ Will was trying to sound unfazed. _You trying to spy on me before I can spy on you?_

Milton let out a scoff. _Is that what you call this? Spying?_

He felt Will shrug. _You’re usually more careful with your Blocker,_ thought Will. _Can’t let anyone inside your head, can you? It’s getting too risky, at this stage of your little world domination scheme. So you must have something to show me. Well, Milt, I’m all ears._

With a twitch of his mouth, Milton felt Will’s consciousness slide into his own mind. He opened his eyes, making sure Will could see where he was: the stark white auditorium of the London Headquarter, gray-tiled walls and marble floor. Sensates and _sapiens_ in Hazmat suits sat in the audience watching as he walked to center stage. 

The employees whispered to each other. This characteristic air of unease always seemed to float about the place. More so when, following his entry on stage, the guards behind him rolled out a bald man strapped to a stretcher, his white-robed uniform stained with sweat and blood, and handed the Headhunter a pistol.

There would always be sacrifices in war. And Will Gorski had chosen the losing side. It was time to show him the consequences of his cluster’s actions.

“I have been informed there are traitors in our midst,” he spoke into the microphone, calm as ever. “And the Chairman does not tolerate disloyalty.”

Will tensed.

“But I realized we have never explicitly showed exactly what treachery would cost. A mistake I plan to fix.”

Turning to the traitor, he raised his pistol. He aimed it at the man’s head as he walked around until he was behind the stretcher so everyone could get a clear view of the execution. The man — Mason was his name, judging by the tag he wore on his soiled robe — was fully conscious now, trying to loosen himself as best he could under the restraints. Mason stared cross-eyed at the gun in his hand. 

He switched off the safety lock. Mason muttered something, too, pathetic pleas, fruitless attempts to spare his traitor life. _Please, sir. Please._

His muscles tensed, and he knew Gorski was trying to take control of his body. Smirking, he reached his left hand into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a syringe, which he injected into his arm before he pulled his trigger. The pricking sensation as the Blocker kicked into effect was all too familiar to him by now, and he relished the buzzing in his head, more so when he registered the sound of Will cursing out loud back in his hideout. 

Will had tried and failed to take control over the arm holding the gun. It was one of the few instances where Milton was relieved no sensate with their frontal lobes intact could share outside their cluster. The timing was perfect. Almost too perfect. 

The bullet shot out of the pistol and lodged itself between Mason’s eyes. Milton made sure to keep his own eyes open and his mind focused on his fading connection with Will. He wanted the younger sensate to see the life go out in the traitor’s eyes.

This war against _Homo sapien_ could not be won without necessary bloodshed, without all the sensates devoted to the same cause. _His_ cause. His army. 

The sooner Will and his cluster understood, the better.

As the current of Will’s racing thoughts drifted further away, he felt Will punch a wall, his knuckles aching and bruising from the impact. He caught a glimpse of Riley rushing into the room to pull him into her arms, to stop him from hurting himself. With Miss Gunnarsdóttir present, it was the perfect time to deliver the final punch. 

_Send my regards to Lito Rodríguez._

*

That afternoon, María returned from her new hideout to collect the newly packaged Blockers Puck had made, blue capsules instead of black. Kala had proposed this idea so sensates in need could distinguish the newly made, 100% safe products from the potentially tainted ones still going around the Archipelago. She and Andy had permanently relocated from Beijing to Berlin, the city where Bug and the Veracity hackers believed the next BPO-staged attack would take place. 

It seemed surreal that María ended up as a Veracity agent, and Lito as part of a group of sensate vigilantes. But the more he believed his life was not as dramatic as his movies, the more the world proved him wrong. 

His concern at the moment, though, had nothing to do with spying.

María sat on a bench in the front garden of the safe house, sipping a mug of hot chocolate. Before Lito could announce his presence, she had already scooted over to make space. It was as if becoming a spy had made her extrasensory. Or maybe, Lito thought, frowning, his footsteps were simply too loud.

“Out of all the ways I imagined seeing you again, Lito, I never thought it would be like _this_.” 

She laid the mug atop her lap and put her hands around it to warm herself up. Lito realized she was wearing a wedding band. He opened his mouth, and closed it again with no idea how he could begin to explain. 

They used to be the kind of friends who always had something to talk about. Now, as she waited for him to speak, there was nothing but silence.

“You know, your cluster’s reputation precedes you,” she continued to speak. “I heard about the August 8 cluster a year ago when two of you broke out from the Iceland facility. And I remember thinking, ‘Hey, that’s Lito’s birthday. Wouldn’t it be the coolest thing if he was actually one of them?’.”

“How long have you been -”

“A spy?” she finished his sentence. They exchanged a smile, and she winked, and for a second he felt like they were teenagers again, chatting on their way to school.

He nodded.

“Two years. Three, if you count the training.” 

“That’s -” Impressive? Scary? A little bit of both? - “That’s longer than I’ve been a sensate.”

María quirked an eyebrow. “Then tell me, _Agent Lito_. How long have you been a sensate?”

The old nickname put Lito at ease. He wondered if María did it intentionally. If, after all these years, she still retained her uncanny ability to guess what was on his mind. 

“Over a year,” he said. “How did you know about BPO?”

“Remember when I took a year off after we finished high school?”

“You went to America.” 

It was the first time they’d parted, _truly_ parted. When she came back, Lito had already left for Mexico City for his first audition. He used to wonder if things would have different if he’d gone traveling with her. But he’d come to realize, with the uncertainties in his future looming about his mind, that his contemplations about past had been shoved into a corner of his mind, indefinitely forgotten.

“That’s where I met Andy. I knew he was a hacker. But later he confessed to me that he hacks for Veracity, and, well, you know how it goes from there.”

“I know,” he echoed, still frowning. “María -”

His friend turned at the same time he did. They looked each other, neither of them speaking another word for a few seconds. Her gaze, he realized, now encompassed a firmness as well as the air of mischief he remembered. Lito had seen the changes in her appearance during their encounter a few nights back, but this time he was able to notice a thin scar on her right cheekbone. A nick from a blade, perhaps? 

She noticed where he was looking. “Oh, yeah. A little souvenir from my training.” Then, with a sigh, “Lito, I know what you were gonna say. I’ve been keeping track of the news.”

“You have?”

Moving a hand away from the mug she held, she punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Of course, silly. My best friend’s a movie star. A great conversation starter, no?”

After all these years, she still knew how to make him smile.

“I’m mad about the kiss, though.”

His expression turned grim, and he opened his mouth to apologize, before he took another look at her and noticed a slight tick at the corners of her mouth. “ _Ay_ , María!” he tried to sound angry, but failed miserably, bursting into laughter instead.

After his laughter subsided, he asked, “You’re really not mad?”

“It’s in the past, Lito. We were kids.”

Part of his brain wanted him to ask _why not? Why aren’t you mad?_ Truth be told, he had expected her to tell him he had lied to her, that he’d betrayed her trust. That was the reason he hesitated to approach her in the garden, even though it was clear she’d been waiting to talk to him. He’d have to thank Nomi later, for making him get out here.

“I can imagine how hard it must be to come out,” she answered in response to the question he never asked. “With you being -” she put on her best impression of a news announcer’s voice - “Lito Rodríguez, recently voted the sexiest man alive in _En Fuego_.”

He smiled in relief. She gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

“And it worked out well in the end, didn’t it? I have Andy, you have Hernando _and_ Dani.”

Lito nearly jumped in his seat. “You need to meet my family!”

“Oh, we introduced ourselves, when you were helping out in the lab. Dani’s a delight. And Hernando, well…”

“Yes?”

“He’s cute. _Really_ cute. But he’s not my type.”

Lito laughed. “What’s Andy like?”

“We’ve _got to_ properly introduce everyone. Preferably after we take care of BPO.”

“Can’t you stay for the night?”

“I wish I could, Lito. But Andy and I have some protecting to do.”

She sounded just like the old María, the one who’d puff out her chest atop a one-story building and declare the two of them as “guardians of the city”. But now their responsibility involved real life and death, and the stakes were higher, much more tangible, than the products of their wild imagination. 

This could very well be the last time they saw each other.

“We’ve got this, Agent Lito,” said María. She knew what was on his mind. If it weren’t for the lack of an Echo when they’d made eye contact back in Beijing, Lito would have believed her to be a very skilled sensate. “I mean, your cluster’s basically an army. And all of us in Veracity’s rooting for you. There’s talk in the Archipelago, too.”

“No pressure,” he muttered.

“Tell you what,” she tried to lighten the mood. “We can meet again, after your cluster brings down BPO and become actual superheroes. We’ll go to a nice restaurant somewhere, and the five of us can talk. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Lito smiled. “I’d like that.”

*

On their night shift, Lito approached Sun with a cup of tea in hand. She gestured for him to leave it on the coffee stand. He sat down next to her at arm’s length and turned to watch her frown at nothing in particular.

“Sun,” he started. He wanted to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention, but thought better of it, remembering how she almost murdered Nomi after she’d snuck up on her. After Beijing, the last thing he needed was more bruises

She turned to look at him, her face conveying all the impatience of a sleep-deprived mother dealing with a pestering child. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, somehow managing to guess his intention before he’d realized what he wanted to say.

“You don’t have to say anything.” With his best puppy dog eyes, he looked at the space between them on the couch. Sun sighed before nodding. He inched closer until their arms were brushing. “We couldn’t have saved Kiira without your help, Sun.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “You couldn’t?”

“You know we couldn’t!” He grinned a playful grin, hoping to put her at ease. “They weren’t expecting a martial arts champion. But you, you stormed in, and you were -” Lito shook his fist and bared his teeth, doing his best impression of a tough fighter type guy - “ _surprise_!”

He knew Sun was holding back a smile.

“Felix and I would’ve been destroyed if you weren’t there,” he continued. “You saw how I was. You _saved_ me.”

There was a pause in which neither of them spoke. Sun sat there frowning, lips pressed into a thin line. “You too,” she said finally, looking down at her hands.

Lito was quieter when he spoke again. He wanted her to help her work through her feelings, but the last thing he wanted to do was come across as forceful, in case she put up her walls again. “It’s what we do. We help each other.”

Sun breathed through her nostrils, slowly, still frowning. Lito knew what she was going to say. When they were on their way back, she may as well have been thinking out loud, despite the Blockers they were on. She had stared into space for their entire flight with her shoulders tense, one tight hand clutching the other, which was curled up in a fist, like she was anticipating another fight, one she could not afford to lose.

If Lito could still read her mind, he was pretty sure he’d hear her think, _But I didn’t help you back there. We almost lost, because of what I -_

“ _No_ ,” he insisted.

A confused Sun to turn to look at him. With a jolt, Lito realized he’d said it out loud. He’d interrupted the voice in his mind that sounded like Sun, forgetting that after their encounter with Pelzer, they had all started staying on Blockers. Even speaking English had become second nature after he’d spent so long hiding with his clusters and allies.

“No, what?” Sun asked.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

She huffed. “I can’t help what I think.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I can try to convince you to think something else?”

He could tell by the way she parted her lips slightly that she was intrigued. Puzzled, too. But mostly curious.

“You can try. I can’t promise it’ll work.”

“I know you feel like you failed back there, like you failed me, when we got a hold of the -” he paused before he could say _taser_ , not wanting to startle her, to make her back away in the middle of a conversation they very much needed to have - “when we found out the guard wasn’t using a gun.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, maybe to point out that it _was_ a failure on her part because their target had almost escaped. _Almost_. But he wouldn’t hear it. He continued, “But before that? When we ran in and those guards came after us? You were sweeping the men left and right, you were - I couldn’t even see what you were doing. You defeated them all -” he imitated the way she’d blocked attacks with her hands, with her foot, making her chuckle - “like that. You were a - a _tornado_.”

“Was I?” She was trying not to smile, to give him the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in cheering her up somewhat. Not that it ever fooled him.

“You don’t remember how you fight, but I do. I love a good action scene.”

She smirked, shaking her head as his eyes widened when he realized she’d relented. “Not all my fights look like that,” she said. “Sometimes it’s harder.”

Like on her last night in prison. The memory still haunted his cluster, Sun most of all, as much as she tried to brush it off. Those fucking cowards had used tasers. They knew they couldn’t have won any other way. That didn’t count as a loss to Lito.

But it did to Sun. 

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What is?”

Lito hovered a hand above her shoulder and waited for her nod before putting his arm around her. “Every time we call for your help, we expect you to win.” He snapped his finger. “Easy, like that. Because we’d never seen you lose.”

She thought about it. “I haven’t lost in a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t.”

Frowning, she looked at him, like she wanted to say something in protest but couldn’t find the right words.

Lito continued, “I know it would be easier, whatever we plan to do now, if there is some - some _magical_ way to make sure we always win. But that’s the problem. You make fighting look easy, like magic, and sometimes we forget how hard it can be.”

Like when Lito had tackled Karl Pelzer and expected to come out fully victorious. He’d spent so much time in Sun’s head, he’d forgotten that by himself, with the body he controlled, he had almost no training in hand-to-hand combat. Sun had to rescue him, like she did with everyone all the time.

“Remember when I thought my career was over? I gave up. I gave up and I told myself that was it. But you’d never do that. You would have kept fighting.”

“I would,” she admitted.

“That’s the problem, Sun. It’s not fair that I can lie in bed in my pajamas and cry for days, and you always have to go on like everything’s fine.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying -” he pulled her in closer and hugged her, his chin resting on top of her head - “losing a fight doesn’t make you less of a fighter.”

He could tell he was getting through to her. Still, she asked, “It doesn’t?”

“No,” he said. “ _Especially_ not for you. I know you’re used to winning, but no one can do it all the time. No one’s that perfect.”

“I suppose you have a point.”

He reached for the box of Kleenex on the coffee stand. “Here.”

She pulled herself out of the hug and pursed her lips, unamused. “I’m _not_ going to cry.”

“Okay. No crying.” He put the box back and raised his hands in surrender. “But I’m here, if you need to talk. If you need to tell me how scary these tasers are, I can help.”

“Thank you, Lito.”

He pulled her back into the hug. “It’s what family does.”

*

In his hotel room, Maitake concentrated on finding Jonas’ mind through their connection. Marcela sat next to him on his bed and waited for him to give her the signal. They were under surveillance. He knew Veronika had eyes and ears everywhere, watching him establish the connection to try and negotiate for Lila’s freedom. Veronika would’ve liked to use Lila for the next operation, after all.

Marcela curled her hand into a fist, manicured nails making dents against her flesh. Maitake knew how much his cluster-mate hated to succumb to the Russian’s plans. But they had agreed it was for the best. They couldn’t overthrow Veronika when one of their cluster was being interrogated in who knows where. Paris? Or perhaps they’d relocated by now.

Jonas’ Blocker dosage wasn’t as powerful as the August 8 cluster believed. After spending so long in interrogation, he’d developed a bit of resistance, and the effects started wearing off earlier than Mrs Rasal’s calculations led them to believe. Not so much that his new allies would be able to notice he was fully connected again, but enough to let a few voices from his memory slip. To let others know he was there.

Maitake heard a buzzing in the Psycellium, as if on cue. It grew louder and more intense before fading altogether.

 _How many minutes have you got?_ he cut to the chase, tapping his finger against his knee to tell Marcela he’d found Jonas. Only one of them had been allowed off Blockers for the time being. Veronika had wanted this plan to succeed, but not badly enough to risk her control over the cluster. Just like they’d predicted.

He heard a chuckle from the other end. _Five, give or take._

“Is he alone?” asked Marcela, a meticulous gaze trained on the center of an abstract portrait that hung behind his bed. She looked like she was fixating on the target for her next assassination, ready to shoot. No one had ordered a hit from her for months, since they’d all become more involved in BPO’s dealings. But old habits die hard.

_Are you alone?_

_I’m in my room. Someone will come with my Blocker soon._

_Good, let’s talk,_ thought Maitake, exchanging a look with his cluster-mate. _We need Lila back. What’s it going to take?_

_What makes you think I’m willing to help?_

Marcela raised an eyebrow. Maitake shook his, frowning. She mirrored his expression and turned back to the painting, as if it could give them an answer.

 _I know you, Jonas,_ he answered. _You’re not as loyal to your allies as you may believe._

_I never tried to deceive myself on where I stand._

Marcela scoffed like she could guess what Jonas was saying.

 _I believe it’s best if you negotiate with the cluster members,_ thought Jonas. _They’re not exactly thrilled about having a prisoner in the hideout._

_Are they interrogating her?_

_You and I both know Lila’s can hold her own against any sensate. The question is, for how long?_

“What could they want from her?” asked Marcela. Maitake relayed the question.

_Nothing in particular. Though they are rather keen to know more about their enemy in BPO before they come up with an annihilation plan. About Veronika, if not the Headhunters._

It seemed they were at least on the same page regarding the Russian. A small consolation which could prove itself useful down the line.

 _That could be arranged,_ Maitake thought. _Lila in exchange for information._

 _In theory,_ Jonas thought, sounding amused.

_What do you mean?_

_If Lila has the same information, what makes you think they’d agree to your terms? They could pry it out of her. Do not underestimate them, Maitake._

_You think they wouldn’t agree to the trade?_

_They might. But they’ll try the same tactic they used last time._

Maitake still seethed whenever he thought about their loss that evening, the last evening he saw his whole cluster together. They’d anticipated the August 8 cluster to put up a fight, to try and make it out with their end of their bargain but not fulfill BPO’s. They hadn’t anticipated losing.

Jonas chuckled. _They’ll agree to a trade, but they never play by the rules, Maitake. I suspect they won’t carry through with their end of the agreement._

Those bastards. _You think they’ll leave Lila behind?_

_Most likely. Perhaps they’ll catch another one of you, if you aren’t careful._

_We won’t be so careless._

Jonas nodded.

 _And we’ll need -_ Maitake closed his eyes and sighed - _we’ll need your assistance._

_What makes you think I will risk my life for an inter-cluster war?_

“He’s not willing,” said Maitake, feeling his consciousness fade back into the hotel room.

Marcela tutted her tongue, the agreed-upon signal for their doomsday tactic. It was a plan their cluster had arranged in the brief minute before the rest of them were put on another Blocker dose, not to be used unless Jonas could not be persuaded any other way. 

Maitake tried to keep his expression neutral, knowing Veronika could be watching. The one place they were safe from her was inside their mind. With the new bargaining chip in hand, he was confident Jonas would be more open to negotiation. 

_Well, for one, it would be easy to inform your allies of your connection with us. And you will lose the trust you worked so hard to gain._

He heard Jonas take a deep breath. _I’m listening._

 _And the second reason -_ Maitake sat a little straighter - _concerns an old friend of yours._

_You’ll have to be more specific._

_Kareem Asghar. Veronika’s prisoner. Used to work with Angelica before Milton came along, didn’t he? One of your oldest friends?_

Jonas tensed. _What about him?_

_Veronika thinks he’s got no more use for her. She has her men infiltrating the Blocker trade to gain the information he concealed from the Headhunters._

He felt a surge of panic through their connection and smirked, knowing he was getting through to Jonas.

 _Kareem’s lobotomy is arranged for July 12th,_ he added. _Five days from now._

_Did Veronika tell you to tell me?_

_She doesn’t know._ Maitake exchanged a smirk with Marcela. _And I think it’s best, for all our sakes, for us to keep it that way. There’s still time to save him. If you agree to our terms._

Jonas took a deep breath. _What’s it going to take?_

 _Lila,_ Maitake thought simply. _You have to free her, if the August 8 cluster doesn’t._

*

**July 23, 2017**

“I’m worried about you, Miss Bak.”

Sun glared Nomi, who sat across the living room, typing away on her laptop. Amanita smiled and leaned against Nomi’s shoulder. They were sharing a pair of purple earbuds, were probably eavesdropping on her conversation with Mun.

Sun sighed. Nomi’s all-access ways and unending supply of burner numbers would be the death of her. “Your concern is unwarranted, Detective.”

“Aww, Sun,” said Amanita, her head on Nomi’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“Well, it _is_ part of my job to locate runaway prisoners,” Detective Mun retorted. She imagined him scratching the back of his head from his office in Seoul. “So my concern is very much warranted.”

“I can stay alive perfectly well on my own.”

“Yeah, well.” He paused, and she heard papers ruffling from his end. “I don’t doubt you’ll bite someone’s head off, if they try to attack.”

“So why are you calling?”

“Funny,” said Mun. “See, I was about to leave my office, but I received an anonymous text with this number on it. I was under the impression you wanted to talk.”

 _You’re welcome,_ mouthed Nomi. Sun wanted to punch a table, but the nearest coffee stand was made of glass. So she settled for clutching her hand into a fist.

“I stand corrected,” he continued when she didn’t respond. “You didn’t send me the number, did you? Must be your hacker friend.”

Amanita raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s good.”

“My _hacker friend_?” Sun tried to sound amused. 

“Come on, Miss Bak. Prison system override? The incriminating records on your brother that mysteriously reappeared?”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Must be a coincidence,” he said, fully unconvinced.

“It was.”

“The court cannot proceed with your brother’s trial without your testimony. I promised I’d keep you safe, if you turn yourself in. The deal still stands.”

“I appreciate your concern. But I cannot accept the offer.” Not yet, anyway. Not when BPO was hot on her trail, and anyone involved with her would be in mortal peril.

“I’ll wait for you to change your mind.”

“What makes you think I will?”

“Wherever you’re hiding right now -” he paused. She heard something squeaking. Perhaps he was stretching on his cushy office chair - “it would appear the world’s destined on drawing you out. Have you heard the news?”

“Which one?”

“The brain mutations, violent episodes… The world’s not safe, Miss Bak.”

After everything she and her cluster went through, that was hardly news. “The world is never safe.” _You should know that. Better than most._

“Just be careful, wherever you are. You haven’t come across any attacks, I hope?”

“Nice try, Mun.”

There was a pause. She heard him chuckle. “What happened to ‘Detective’?”

She was certain Detective Mun was holding back a smirk. That infuriating, smug, lop-sided smile that made her want to have a go at him, to knock that expression right off his face. But he was back in Korea, out of reach. So she settled for punching the couch cushion. Nomi and Amanita giggled.

“Yeah, Sun,” Nomi teased, “what happened to ‘Detective’?”

“Nothing happened, _Detective_ ,” she said through clenched teeth.

Mun laughed. Sun wanted to punch a wall. 

“Whatever you say, Miss Bak.” He sounded like he was full-on smirking now. “I have to catch the last train home now. My offer still stands. _But_ -” She imagined him raising his hands in surrender - “I understand if you still don’t want to come home. Though I’m sure when you’re ready to talk, your hacker friend will send me a number.”

She glared at Nomi, who winked before pecking Amanita on the cheek. 

“I’m sure she will.”

After Mun hung up, Sun buried her head in the couch cushion she was using as a substitute punching bag. Nomi moved to sit next to Sun on her couch, and Amanita sat on her other side. And, as if Sun hadn’t embarrassed herself enough for one morning, they waited for her to pull her face from the couch cushion before congratulating her on “winning over a detective’s heart” — Amanita’s exact words.

She should have been annoyed at Nomi for setting her up a second time. Or mad. Or both. Unfortunately, Sun had discovered over the past year or so that there was simply no way she could stay angry at her cluster-mate for very long. So as Nomi and Amanita pulled her into a side-hug, she crossed her arms and did her best to convey she was not at all amused by the little set-up stunt they pulled.

It fooled no one.

*

Will reminded Jonas of what he once was: young, determined, protective of the ones he loved at all costs. Though, he’d never been as keen to declare his allegiance to any side as Will as an adult, Jonas saw in him the same decisiveness he had in his youth, prioritizing the things in life he valued most. Once Jonas thought his purpose was finding a place where he belonged. After his rebirth, he realized it was finding a way to stay alive. 

Angelica believed life could go on after death, so long as there was something — or someone — for their spirits to return to. She lived on through her children, and Jonas tried to see them the same way. But the difference between them was that Angelica was never afraid of the unknown. Jonas, on the other hand, dreaded uncertainty. If there ever was a choice, he would have preferred to live on through his carnal form, in full control of his place in the world, instead of appearing in the corners of someone’s mind.

Nonetheless, he felt obligated to provide Angelica’s children and their allies, with knowledge he’d acquired by his own experience. Which was why, at the moment, a bewildered Will and Henrik sat on his bed, per his request.

Scratching his permanently tousled hair, Henrik tried to crack a joke, though Jonas could sense his hesitation. “You’re not interrogating us, are you?”

Will, on the other hand, frowned and fell silent. 

“In your own house?” Jonas raised an eyebrow. “That’s hardly wise.”

The young men looked at each other with identical blue-eyed apprehension and pursed lips before turning to Jonas, waiting for him to explain himself. In the clusters he’d met, there was always someone who exuded trust and a sense of parental authority despite being the same age as their cluster-mates. 

He was hardly a mentor-like figure to Will’s cluster, with his general inability to help and the secrets he’d never told. But it was a relief to know he could inform the men of what knowledge he could afford to pass on and hope it could work to their benefit in a post-BPO world. Ideally, he would be around to see this play out. 

Realistically? Lila was a wild card, and her cluster’s shifting allegiance away from Veronika’s side had added a new variable in his involvement in the rebellion against the Headhunters. He didn’t know what the future would hold. The lack of control over his fate was daunting, to say the least.

“Angelica believed sensates experience love in its purest form,” said Jonas. “I mentioned it once before. But what I did no elaborate on was what exactly that love entailed. It was not, like most people would believe, always romantic love. Although that form of love tended to come faster, more intense, for many sensates. 

“Some people feel affection through platonic love, love between cluster-mates of a non-romantic nature. Many underestimate the strength of that love, but I have seen some that are equally as powerful as romantic love, if not more. Your clusters -” Jonas looked at the door, outside which people were going about their afternoon routines - “have intense bonds, more than most clusters I’ve met.”

They nodded, wondering why Jonas was talking to them about their love life like a parent would if they were trying too hard to bond with their child.

“It is possible that one of your cluster-mates would carry an unborn cluster and give birth in the near future.”

Henrik froze like a teenager caught sneaking into his girlfriend’s house through her bedroom window after dark. Will’s ears turned scarlet.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.” Jonas looked at the affronted young men, amused. “Birthing other clusters is a natural stage of a mature sensate’s life.”

Henrik cleared his throat. “Mature in what way?”

“Mature in terms of emotional connection. In terms of love.”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Will muttered under his breath, suppressing a groan.

Jonas continued, “New clusters are formed by love within a parent cluster. I believe that was why Yrsa was aversive this type of love.”

“She thought sensates are best left unborn,” Will recalled.

Henrik suppressed a shudder. Jonas imagined he was picturing a life in which he had never met Georgina. Connections, once established, could not be taken away without emotional repercussions. Losing part of a cluster hurt as much as losing part of oneself with no means to recover. And finding love in a cluster was the opposite: the only way Jonas could put the feeling into words was that it magnified the intensity like a person was experiencing the same affection twice, but at the same time.

“So should you find yourselves, or anyone else in your cluster, feeling sensations that emerge from an unknown source, it is likely that they’re expecting to birth a cluster of their own. It’s a life-changing experience. And I trust the two of you will be responsible to help your cluster see through the completion of the stages before the actual birth.”

It was Will’s turn to freeze. Henrik stared at Jonas with a slack jaw. “Jonas,” he said, slowly and quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. “Are you trying to give us ‘The Talk’?”

There were snickers outside the door, multiple voices whispering and giggling. Several footsteps pattered out of the hallway before he could open the door to find out the identities of the eavesdroppers. But, judging by the pair of high-shrieked laughter echoing from the living room, it was an easy enough guess for Jonas. In terms of theatrics, Leon certainly gave Lito a run for his money.

Jonas had never been one to blush, but needless to say, it was an awkward call-out. “If you prefer to think about it that way,” he replied, as calmly as he could. “But I prefer to think of this as an interlude.”

“An interlude to what?” asked Will.

“Something to think about before you retreat back into the comfort of your clusters and go back to planning your next step in this war. A glimpse into what your future may hold.”

Jonas found it odd that most sensates Mothers and Fathers chose to avoid the topic until a cluster was well on their way to rebirth. His Father, though, had sat with all eighty of his children at some point in their lives and explained, in very certain terms, what to expect throughout the process of birthing a new cluster. It was fortunate his Father was around to guide them through the process.

“If we were to have children, I hope BPO won’t be a problem for them,” said Henrik. 

“It won’t be,” said Will, ever so determined.

It was difficult for Jonas to imagine the emotional disturbance that came with being reborn at a time Headhunters were active. He was reborn at a time before BPO, a time when sensate researchers like Angelica, worked on their own terms, examining the phenomenon of their natural yet supernatural existence. There was no authority to interfere with their findings, no _sapien_ leader who sought to recruit sensates to their side to do work against members of their own species.

With all the meticulous plotting that went into Veronika’s schemes, he was surprised she would underestimate the lengths sensates would go to avoid capture. Forced allegiance had never worked out well for either end of the power hierarchy. Authority like this was most vulnerable to collapse. Jonas was surprised Veronika and her Headhunters didn’t take the history of warfare into account when they planned their operations.

“Whatever the future may hold, I believe it’s in your best interest to know sooner rather than later. Your relationship with members of your cluster is stable, to say the least. Your minds have grown accustomed, dependent, even, to the power that came with the increased connections. It would welcome any means of expanding itself, including establishing connections to a new, unborn cluster.”

“I look forward to it,” said Will.

Jonas chuckled. “Right now the neural network inside connects you to members of your own cluster, perhaps a few others, more in Henrik’s case. But when you are expecting a new cluster, the consciousness of your unborn children will be privy to influence from your mind. So protecting your brain, is crucial. A head damage would not bode well.”

Henrik sighed. “Probably good that we find out now. In case the next battle comes at a bad time for any of us.”

Jonas nodded. He knew Will and Jonas preferred to know their enemies before a battle. They liked to be prepared for the good _and_ the bad. Their love lives, for one, could benefit from guidance from their sensate predecessors, considering the ever-expansive and reproductive nature of their minds.

Usually it was Angelica’s job to give her children this talk. The first time round, it had been an amusing experience for all parties involved, Mother and child alike. In the end they had managed to compile the facts in a somewhat coherent manner. Jonas swallowed, thinking about their lost children. Like everything else in his adulthood, they had been taken too soon. It was after her first cluster’s death that he'd decided to take a side once and for all.

Angelica’s side.

*

“Have a drink with me,” Dani said to Felix that evening, after their allies had finished cleaning the kitchen. She grabbed his arm before he could open his mouth to protest, and let go with an immediate apology when he moaned in pain.

Unlike her, he hadn’t made it out of his battle unscathed. According to Lito, Felix had spent most of the fight trying to shield Kiira from the guards’ blows, earning a few scratches up his arms and a sprained left shoulder.

She let him sit down again, and walked over to the fridge. “Still hurts?”

He flashed her a dopey grin. “Yeah. Gonna get a few scars.”

Dani couldn’t help but shake her head at that. She let out a half-exasperated, half-amused sort of chuckle. She looked towards his chest, currently covered by a blue Hawaiian shirt. “I think you have plenty of scars as it stands.”

At that, his grin faded. She quirked an eyebrow as she took out the dry sparkling wine and orange juice and reached for the champagne flutes in the cabinet, pouring two mimosas.

“Dani,” Felix started. He sounded a little hoarse. Serious, even.

She turned. He met her eyes. She brought over their drinks and joined him at the counter, turning the stool so she faced him.

“I missed talking to you,” she told him, before he opened his mouth again. 

She had a feeling what he wanted to talk about, but she didn’t want him to be the one to lead the discussion. She’d find herself suppressing a chill if anyone brought up her past, even Lito and Hernando. And her talk with Wolfgang had confirmed what she’d suspected: that Felix discerned more about her history than he’d let on. 

Felix nodded. She tried not to look too surprised. She’d expected him to switch to his one of his lighter conversation-starters, maybe point out how they’d only parted for about two days. “I missed talking to you, too, Dani.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “So… Are we okay?”

He nodded again before downing his whole glass of mimosa, slamming the champagne flute back on the counter. Dani brought her drink to her lips and took a sip, watching him. 

The corners of his mouth tensed for a second before he spoke. “Dani, I know there’s some things in your - in your past, something you don’t wanna say. Hell, I get it. It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Felix, what are you -”

He held up a finger, asking her to hold her questions, as his other hand started unbuttoning his Hawaiian shirt. When the buttons were undone, he revealed his torso, pushing the fabric aside so she could see his scars in their entirety, angry criss-crosses mixed with bullet wounds over his chest.

She’d seen his scars before, in their dim-lit London hideout, but underneath the kitchen lights, there was a starkness to the fading white lines and splotches that made her wince. The scars glinted as she tilted her head to examine his chest, noting that a fair bit seemed to be near the left side. Close to his heart.

“I said I got these from saving a damsel.” He looked down at his chest. His voice was gravely, unrecognizable, devoid of the usual suave inflection. There was a vulnerability in the way he spoke, one she’d never associated with the man who’d bragged about taking out six beefy bouncers at _Luzia_ with his bare fists.

“I did think there was more to it.” She set her drink on the counter. Dani never thought she’d be the one to try and ease the tension. But she realized it was the first time she saw Felix like this: lost, apprehensive. _Scared_. “I didn’t wanna pry,” she added. “You’re allowed to have secrets. We all got ‘em.”

“I want you to know.”

“Okay,” she said, putting her hand over his.

He looked up to meet her eyes. “I didn’t get these from saving a damsel. Someone shot me.”

She put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Felix -”

“No,” he interrupted, before she could express sympathy. “I deserved it. I fucked up. Like, _really_ fucked up. And I paid the price.”

“What did you do?”

“Over a year ago, Wolfie’s cousin Steiner planned out this heist. He was gonna drill a safe and steal some diamonds, sell them, make a fortune. But Wolfie and I, we wanted to prove something. We wanted to prove we could do it better. So we beat Steiner to it.”

“You got caught?”

“We didn’t. That’s the thing. I thought we’d won. I thought, ‘ _Fuck_ , we showed them now. Our luck’s gonna change’.” He shook his head, looking exasperated with himself. “Yeah, Wolfie cracked the safe. We got out in time. We sold half these rocks to a merchant, made a bit of fortune. We got cocky.”

“They figured out it was you two.”

He cracked a little smile at that. “I was an idiot to think they wouldn’t. Wolfie’s the only decent box-man for miles. If anyone could’ve cracked that S&D, it would’ve been him.”

An S&D. Uncrackable, by the standards of the men her father hired to do his dirty work. She raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Yeah. Maybe we should’ve drilled,” he joked. Then he sighed, his smile fading again. “Dani, I want you to know what really happened because I’d been trying to make you think I’m some kind of hero like Conan, some guy who never loses a fight and always saves the damsel. But I’m not like that.”

Dani gave him a small smile, a sign of reassurance. She didn’t know if he expected her to be mad when he told her the truth. But she was relieved he didn’t feel the need to lie, to try and impress her any longer.

“I want us to be friends, and have drinks, and talk. _Properly_ talk. Because you can hold your liquor better than most people I know. Except Wolfie.”

Her smile turned into a smirk. “I can, huh?”

“Yeah. Gotta say, I’m impressed.”

“You’re not so shabby yourself.” She punching him lightly on the shoulder that wasn’t bandaged. Jokes aside, though, “I knew you were bragging about playing hero. But that didn’t stop me from having drinks with you.”

“I’ve always wondered if you were crazy, wanting to hang out with me.”

A shrug. “Maybe I am,” she said, looking at his scars. “Maybe we both are.” _Maybe that’s why I found your damsel stories funny. And annoying. And kind of cute._

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’m not just crazy. I also fuck things up, a lot. It was my fault, my idea to steal the diamonds. I wanted us to have one over his uncle and cousin. And get fucking rich. Wolfie didn’t give a fuck ‘till I talked him into it.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Felix.”

“But this is worse. God, Dani, you should’ve heard the shit he told me when he thought I was unconscious. He said once, maybe I’d be better off if we weren’t friends. So his crazy-for-shit gangster family wouldn’t use me as a target.”

She swallowed, remembering the same thoughts running through her head when Joaquín and her parents threatened Lito in their apartment after the São Paulo Pride Parade.

“I feel terrible because he shot up a lot of people,” Felix continued, “so they wouldn’t come get me in the hospital and finish the job.”

“His cousin?”

“Yeah.”

“His uncle?”

“And others. I knew there was more.”

She sighed. There always was.

“Dani, I know there are things in your past you don’t wanna tell me. And you don’t have to. Hell knows I’m not exactly trustworthy, with the shit I’ve done.”

“You didn’t have to tell me about _your_ past.”

“But I wanted you to know. I’m not Conan. I’m not some - some glorious, epic hero who always does the right thing. I don’t save damsels. I mean, fuck, I can barely save my own ass. I almost died from stealing some stupid rocks. Almost got Wolfie killed, too.”

Their eyes met, and she reached her hand forward, pausing until he nodded. Gingerly, her fingers grazed the uneven surface of the skin on his chest, feeling the bumps and ridges, slipping past the scars. A dull pain echoed through the hollows of her chest. She imagined how awful it must have been, to have a reminder of his mistake permanently etched into his skin, haunting him every time he looked down.

“You wouldn’t have let Wolfgang die,” she said, buttoning his shirt with both hands. “I know you. You’d have done the same for him.”

“Yeah, I would have. But I got him into this crap. Then it got worse, with Fuchs, and Lila, and Wolfie got captured by those fucking Headhunters and -”

She put her hand over his on the counter, tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, “That’s not on you, Felix. BPO would’ve found another way to get to him.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t help.”

“You’re helping now. Not just Wolfgang — you’re helping _all_ of us. And Lito told me you were a real hero in Beijing.”

And his grin was back. “Yeah, it was epic. Felt like I was in one of his movies.”

“See?” She grinned, too. “There’s no way to change the past. But you can try to do better. And I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

She raised her champagne flute and poured half the leftover mimosa into his. “I think this calls for a celebration. To our victories!”

He hesitated for a second before lifting his own drink. They clinked their glasses together, before downing their mimosas in one go. She pulled out more sparkling wine and orange juice from the fridge and refilled their flutes.

“And after that, -” she laid the juice and the wine on the counter - “we can try out a new drinking game. What do you say?”

*

Sometimes Wolfgang would wake up in the middle of the night. Kala knew he’d always been a light sleeper, and with the trauma of his recent abduction still fresh on his mind, he was finding it harder to sleep through the night. His Blocker dosages were carefully calculated, but there were other factors that determined the exact amount of the time the inhibitors could affect his brain. There were times, usually at night, when he’d slip out a few minutes before it was time for his next dose. 

They liked to savor the moments they could feel the full extent of their connections, and imagine future where this could be the norm again. Kala remembered what Riley had said about presence. She felt Wolfgang’s presence of minds as if it was an extension of her own. Even now as he slept on, more still than usual, she thought, stroking his hair.

She looked at the bedside alarm. It was five more minutes before he was supposed to take his next Blocker, but she could already feel her mind slip outside of her own body and inhabit the space next to her where Wolfgang lay, mumbling in German in his sleep. His memories hadn’t fully been unleashed, so she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She decided she liked that added layer of mystery. The way the syllables rolled off his tongue made his words sound like poetry.

Kala leaned in closer until their foreheads were touching, her skin warm against his. When she realized he felt colder than normal, she frowned. There was no cold sweat clinging to the surface of his skin. She pulled his side of the blanket till it reached below his chin, hoping to bring up his temperature.

He slept on his side, facing her, but he turned to lie on his back, his arms stiff against his side like a log. She’d seen Wolfgang fidget in his dream, but never like this. Curious, she inched closer until the top of her head nuzzled against the side of his neck again. It didn’t wake him, but on instinct he moved his arm and slid it underneath her neck, his hand touching her shoulder. He felt cool to the touch. She laced her fingers between his as best she could, but his hand remained stiff, clutched into a fist.

Why was he so tense?

She concentrated on his presence in their shared mind, a quiet but constant vibration like the static of a radio that had been put on standby. She imagined herself drawn to the source, the force of it pulling her closer like their minds were opposite magnetic poles. Her mind’s eye was propelled forward through infinite darkness until she felt a chill in the air.

When she opened her eyes there was more darkness, but she could tell she was walking. She felt Wolfgang’s footsteps as if they were her own. Left, right, left, right. His hard boots treaded on a damp ground in some deserted alleyway. Or perhaps it was a warehouse? She couldn’t see the sky.

Sometimes he stepped on shallow puddles and the water clung to his soles, splashing as he walked on. Kala realized his footsteps weren’t the only ones. There were others close behind him. He stopped in front of a metal door. She heard someone speak.

 _Open,_ said a gruff male voice, reverberating around the empty halls. Kala felt a gloved hand clutch his shoulder: large, sturdy, unrelenting.

Wolfgang reached out a hand and pulled the handle. The door was heavy, but he swung it to the side with ease, holding it behind him with one hand as he walked in. There were a few small windows in the room, and they were opened to a slit. Some lights passed through. It was still daytime. 

In the middle of the room sat a person on a wooden chair with a bag over their head. 

Kala felt Wolfgang stop when he was two arms’ length from the person, and the large man walked past Wolfgang and around one side of the chair until he was behind the prisoner. Slowly, he pulled the bag off the prisoner’s head to reveal a long-haired tattooed man with piercing eyes, his gaze made less intimidating by the purpled rings around his eyes. The prisoner spat before tilting his head to look Wolfgang in the eye and cursed in Russian, the meaning of the words lost to his ears — he’d been out of practice for too long.

 _Who’s this?_ Wolfgang asked.

Instead of answering, the large man merely nodded at the space behind Wolfgang. Kala heard another set of footsteps and realized they weren’t the only three people in the room. Uncle Sergei walked forward and crouched to meet the prisoner’s eyes. 

_He defied my orders. And you know how I feel about disloyalty, Wolfgang._

_You want me to do it?_ asked Wolfgang, sounding surprised.

 _If this pussy’s not gonna do it, I will,_ said another familiar voice.

Kala felt someone pluck out the gun from the back pocket of Wolfgang’s jeans. Sergei shook his head, stopping the person in their tracks. Wolfgang turned and snatched the gun back from his cousin Steiner.

 _Yes, Wolfgang, you,_ said his uncle.

_Why?_

_Consider this your initiation._

Wolfgang had known this moment was coming since his sixteenth birthday. Felix had suggested they grab a couple fake IDs and try their luck in another country where no one knew who he was. But he had refused to run.

The memory seemed to have fast-forwarded, or perhaps Wolfgang was waking up. Kala heard the sound of a gunshot before she opened her eyes to find herself back in the Paris bedroom she shared with Wolfgang. She saw his eyes grow wide upon the realization that Kala had seen the whole memory.

As if on cue, the alarm clock beeped, signaling the time for another dose.

He didn’t say anything when she handed him the bottle of water and an older black capsule their hosts had in storage, and downed the Blocker like it couldn’t have come fast enough. Before he could turn away from her, she touched him on the shoulder, prompting him to turn back around and look into her eyes.

“I know,” she said, her voice gentle. There was no fixing the past. The only thing to do now was to show him she had accepted all of him, and hope one day he might do the same.

“Kala -”

“Don’t.” She raised a finger and stopped him before he could say anything else. “You can’t change my mind, Wolfgang.”

They both knew they had gone a long way past that. He sighed.

She scooted to lie back down, looking between his head and the pillow until he did the same, relenting under her silent command. They faced each other, the blanket wrapped around both their shoulders. She reached for his hand, smiling when she discovered he’d started warming up after his memory faded. Hands intertwined, she ran her thumb across the back of his hand, tracing the old scars atop his knuckles with a frown. Souvenirs from a fight in the schoolyard, perhaps?

“Bar brawl,” he mumbled. “Two against six.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

“It wasn’t. Felix and I finished them off in two minutes.”

 _Of course you did._ She smirked. He reciprocated with a dimpled smile that made her heart flutter. It was broken by a yawn.

“Go back to sleep, _bhediya_.”

Nodding, he brought his other hand up and touched her cheek. They inched their heads closer until his blue eyes was all she could see, their noses nearly touching.

“Wolfgang, please don’t push me away.”

“Don’t think I can,” he mumbled as he drifted off, smiling once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! Another massive 10k chapter with feels. YOU'RE WELCOME! 
> 
> NaNoWriMo has began, and as a NaNo Rebel, I've pledged to write at least 50k of Veracity content within the month of November. A friend dared me to go for 75k, which I will attempt, but only when I'm certain I won't die from it, because I would HATE to see this story unfinished! I'll be posting rants - AHEM I MEAN UPDATES - on my twitter (@ch1toinfinity) and my tumblr blog (@chaptersonetoinfinity).
> 
> (No, I'm not trying to self-promote and get new followers. Not at all. Why would you think that?)


	22. Call me a bitch one more time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the safe house gets a new guest, and the cluster and allies get in another fight.
> 
> “Call me a bitch one more time, and I will kill you.”  
> — From S1E11, “Just Turn the Wheel and the Future Changes”  
>    
>  **TW for mentions of child loss.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh. NaNoWriMo's going well. I'm not stressed at all. Totally not. Heh. (Seriously though I've been pretty productive lately and I'm sure you all wouldn't mind that, would you?)
> 
> A big thank you (and HUGSSS) to @greenmountaingirl for helping me with the Riley POV sections. Go check out her stories! She's got a Kalagang AU in the works that will fuck you up in the best ways, which I beta!

**July 24, 2017**

“We’d like to propose a trade,” said a deep voice through the speakers on Nomi’s laptop, an anonymous called with a configured number. The person spoke slowly in an accent Nomi couldn’t place. Each word was carefully chosen.

“Who is this?” Nomi spoke into her microphone with a frown, clutching Amanita’s hand. “Who are you, and how did you get this number?”

There was a pause, before, “How I came across your information is irrelevant.”

Nomi looked at Will, who shook his head. 

“We’re not negotiating with someone who isn’t willing to give us their name,” she said.

“We’d like to propose a trade. Lila Facchini’s freedom, in exchange for information.”

Nomi scoffed. “I think we’ve got the _information_ part covered.”

“It’s my understanding that you’re seeking the whereabouts of the _sapiens_ inside BPO. Veronika Makarova, in particular.”

Lito looked between Nomi and the stairs leading down to the basement and winked. “As we said,” Nomi answered, sounding more confident, “we have our means of accessing the information we need.”

“If you’re trying to get Lila to confess, you will find yourself disappointed.”

Nomi raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Her knowledge is outdated. Plans change. So does locations.”

Everyone in the living room shrugged, agreeing the caller had a point there. Still, “You’re right,” Nomi conceded. “Plans do change. Ours, too.”

“Tell me then, _Nomi Marks_ -” Nomi did a double-take when she heard her name - “how are you planning to go about overthrowing BPO’s authority without any clue on what the Chairman’s next operation entails? Or an address, at the very least?”

“Wait,” Lito whispered. Nomi typed in a few keys to mute the microphone before turning to him. “I think it’s one of Lila’s cluster,” Lito continued. “Maybe we should meet him.”

Jonas frowned. “More confrontation? Is that wise?”

“Some updated information on Veronika might be helpful,” said Kala. “Although an exchange might not be necessary since we have access to Lila, and whoever she’s connected to, by extension. _But_ it would be helpful to see someone from her cluster.”

Amanita smirked. “Noms and I can track them down if we see what they look like.”

Will nodded before turning to the rest of the group. Most of them murmured an agreement. Some shrugged, trusting his judgement.

“Not all of us have to go,” Sun added. “Only those of us they already know. And me.”

“Not Lila?” asked Jonas, sounding… Impressed? It was hard to tell.

Amanita’s smirk widened. She could guess what was on everyone’s minds. “You think they’ll buy our bluff after what happened last time?”

“I don’t think they have a choice,” said Lito, smirking back.

Nomi un-muted the microphone. “Alright. We’re listening,” she said to the caller. “So, where do you propose we meet?”

*

With the growing danger brought forth by the BPO infiltrators in the Archipelago, sensates around the world were in a panic to find safe shelters. Which was why, later that morning, the August 8 cluster and their allies found themselves with a new addition to their team: a two-year-old toddler named Amélie, brought to the safe house by her flustered mother.

“I’m sorry,” said the young woman, both to her child and everyone else. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay,” the young woman explained in English, her French accent faint but noticeable. “But I can’t lose my job. And it’s not safe for her where we live. And I can’t explain this -” she gestured to all of them.

Amélie fussed when the woman handed her to Gina, but didn’t cry. She looked on, confused, between her mother and the group of strangers. The little girl turned to look at Riley, shoving her fist into her mouth. Riley felt her heart drop at the sight of blonde curls and blue eyes. She felt Will’s arm tighten around her shoulder, keeping her steady.

“Is she _Homo sensorium_?” Gina asked her mother.

“ _Oui_.” The woman nodded frantically. “Her father was a, uh - what do you call? A sensate.”

Everyone went quiet. Gina and Henrik exchanged a nod, their expressions grim.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Henrik promised.

The woman took out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I have my name here. And my number. And our address, right here in Paris. If you need anything -”

“We’ll call you,” Leon reassured, sounding uncharacteristically serious. He accepted the paper and looked at the woman’s name. “We’ll keep her safe, Clara.”

*

It was two hours after Clara left when Amélie began crying, and the hosts found themselves at a loss on what to do with the toddler. They had children guests now and then, but never this young, and never without the parent around. No one said much during dinner as the child was passed back and forth in an attempt to calm her down.

Their tactic proved ineffective almost immediately.

The whole time, Riley looked frozen. She tried not to make eye contact with Amélie in case she called out a different name. Her cluster tried to give her space, but there was only so much they could do when all of the house’s inhabitants were cramped inside one kitchen and living room, alternating between cooking, eating, and cleaning.

Riley knew, by now, that everyone save for the hosts had been informed of her past. Every time Amélie started another bout of tantrums, she could feel her cluster-mates and allies holding their breaths, sneaking glances her way to make sure she was okay.

Will’s grasp on her hand tightened. They exchanged a silent look. She nodded, and he excused them from the dinner table, guiding her away until they were at the far end of the hallway, away from the sound of the toddler’s cries. She leaned against a wall and felt her breath quicken, ignoring the warm prickle in her eyes.

Will stroked her hair. He leaned his head forward, the tip of his nose touching her forehead. Gingerly, he lifted her by the chin and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. She tried to reassure him with a smile, swallowing hard.

It wasn’t long before the tears fell.

“We can go down if you like.” He looked at a set of stairs which led to the basement, not the one near the center of the house they usually used, and back at her.

She let him guide her, his hand squeezing her shoulder. They walked down the steps one at a time. By halfway she felt like she was going to collapse. She leaned against the railing and exhaled, feeling Will stop next to her once he realized she wasn’t walking anymore.

“You okay?” he asked, keeping his voice low in case anyone passed by. 

She shook her head. With Will, there was no need to put up a front. “I’m not,” she said, her voice shaking. “I thought I would be.”

She was shaking now. Not from the open window, but from the chill deep inside, the permanent sleeping poison crawling up to pull her beneath the surface of her memories. She felt her head spin and heard the sound of metal crashing. She saw herself trapped, tumbling through snow before coming to a complete stop.

“Why?” she whispered, to no one in particular. Her tears fell freely this time. She weeped for a past that could no longer be.

“I don’t know, Riley.” She felt herself pulled back into Will’s embrace and felt him trembling, too. “I don’t know.”

Will helped her sit down on the steps and pulled her close. They spent a few minutes holding each other, not saying a word. Riley took in his scent, detergent from his freshly laundered shirt mixed with the smell of aftershave. With her head buried in the nook of his neck, her breaths started to calm.

*

Capheus didn’t expect to find Kiira awake. 

For the past two days, he’d been delivering food to her room, but he’d always found her asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, head covered save for the bit of afro peeking out from the top. It amused him, the way she kept herself so isolated in her sleep. But it also served as a reminder that unlike him, she grew up in a colder place where she had to warm herself by making a shelter out of her bedding.

“Morning,” said Kiira, looking up from the tablet she held in her hand. She was reading what looked like an academic paper. “Wait. Is it morning?”

He grinned, laying the tray on top of the nightstand by her bed, next to the bottle of Blockers they kept just in case. “It’s dinner time, Kiira. We didn’t want to wake you.”

She grinned back, slightly embarrassed. “I was about to get food. But thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He turned to leave. 

“Capheus?” she called out, stopping him in his tracks. “Can you -” she pursed her lips, like she was debating what to say.

“You want me to stay?”

“I’d like that. Unless you’re busy — oh! Is your cluster planning your next step? Have you learned anything else on the BPO _sapiens_? Can I help?”

He chuckled, amused. “Not yet. There’s something we need to take care of tomorrow, but the planning’s been done.”

Kiira switched on the lamp and scooted over in her bed before she helped herself to the food. Capheus looked at the empty space, and she nodded. He sat down next to her, his back against the headboard.

They spent a minute or so in silence, neither of them knowing what else to say. Capheus had spent every night after his first meeting with Kiira, thinking of all the questions he wanted to ask. He’d supposed they’d meet again after the fiasco with BPO had ended. He didn’t expect he’d see her again so soon, he thought, looking at her bandaged wrists. 

He didn’t expect to see her after he’d almost lost her.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Kiira said after wolfing down her plate of spaghetti, “you must have a professional chef in your midst. One of your cluster?”

“Ahh. Not exactly. A partner. Lito’s partner.”

She blinked, a sign of recognition. “Oh, yes. Hernando?”

“You know about him?”

“I talked to Lito on the flight back.”

He smiled, pleased Kiira was getting to know everyone. “Who else have you met?”

“Sun and Felix, same place.” She showed him the article she was reading on the tablet. “And Kala and Nomi popped by earlier. They thought I’d be interested in the earlier research BPO’s done, when they were testing Blocker prototypes.”

Before they set out to kidnap Whispers and Jonas, Nomi had pulled out the information from a database with Bug’s help. From what Capheus could understand, Kala had found the data very helpful when she was working to modify the pills to an injectable form.

“You and Kala, you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“Most likely.” Kiira smiled, locking the tablet’s screen again. “She’s asked for my assistance in the lab. After I’ve caught up on sleep, of course.”

Capheus had never been violent, but he seethed at the reminder that BPO had kept his baby sister hostage and exploited her gift for their operations. She tilted her head and watched his expression. Perhaps she was trying to read his thoughts despite the Blocker she was on. She certainly seemed like an analytical type.

“It wasn’t violent,” she said, reassuring. “There were lots of blindfolds and ropes… Lots of moving around. Couldn’t sleep, though. I was trying to deduce my location.”

Of course she was. He imagined what it would have been like to watch her grow up, to hear her ramble as she went about quest after quest to satisfy her curiosity. But Kiira was a grown woman now. And although he’d missed the opportunity to experience what she was like as a child, there was plenty of time to catch up now that they were under one roof.

“Do you do this often? The deduction.”

“It’s one of my hobbies.”

“Oh! Like Sherlock Holmes?”

“Exactly.” She looked pleased with herself. “I love the books, and I’ve watched the different adaptations. Fiction makes everything look easy.” She sighed. “Lots of the knowledge can be helpful _in theory_ , but I’ve discovered real world situations give way to more variables.”

“It can’t be easy, trying to think when you’re in danger,” he observed.

“It’s not. But it’s easier now since I’m safe again and I’m with -” she looked like she was suddenly reminded of something important. She groaned, putting a hand over her face - “oh _no_ , no no no no - I’ve completely forgotten -”

“What? What is it?”

“ _Liam._ ”

“L-Liam? Who’s Liam?”

She continued to mutter under her breath as she unlocked the tablet and swiped through the desktops until she found a messaging icon, some application Capheus couldn’t recognize. A warning about confidentiality configurations popped up on the screen. Kiira hit “accept” before she logged in and scrolled through her messages.

The first slot on top had the name _Liam Anderson_ in front of the contact number. Capheus’ mouth widened. Anderson was Kiira’s last name. Which meant -

“Oh, good, Nomi must’ve told him.” She read through the chat record and breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to Capheus with a smile in apology. “ _Sorry_. I wasn’t thinking - you wouldn’t know -”

“Your brother?” he asked.

A quirked eyebrow. “Is that a deduction?”

He laughed. “Maybe.”

“My older brother, yes. He was adopted from Ireland when I was three.”

Capheus used to stay up at night, thinking about the sister he could’ve had. He’d hoped she wouldn’t be as lonely, but the reminder that Kiira’s had a brother who grew up with her sent a pang up his heart. Was it jealousy? Or longing? 

“What’s he like?”

Kiira thought about it. “He’s a complete jokester. Got into trouble at school a lot. Drove mom and dad up the walls. But he’s a good listener. We’d have a Sherlock marathon on Christmas Eve every year…. I think you’d like him.”

He wished they could connect in their minds like the first time they’d met. Kiira frowned, before she jolted slightly, reaching for the tablet again. She scrolled through Liam’s profile and showed him a family picture: a gangly red-haired man with pale, freckled skin, a teenage Kiira riding on his back, and their blonde, impeccably-dressed parents standing next to them, beaming at their silly children.

“This was a few years ago,” she explained. “A few months before I was reborn, I think.”

“Do they know?”

“Not at first. But after -” her voice grew quieter - “after Morgan, Liam noticed something was off. He kept asking. Eventually I had to tell him.”

“You haven’t told your parents?”

She shook her head. “Liam and I decided it was best they didn’t know. Mavis’ dad said a lot of BPO collaborators worked in a University. I suppose my most recent ordeal was a testament to that.”

“Are they still safe in Cambridge?”

She showed him the recent messages from Liam. “Someone from Veracity reached out to them. There’s a safe house in England, not too far away. Liam’s gone there too.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is.” She leaned back against the headboard and ran her fingers through her hair. “But I’m worried - they’ve got their jobs. They can’t afford to stay there for ages.”

“They won’t have to, Kiira. I’m sure.”

With a cluster like his? There were so many ways they could win, and every victory they had up to this point only made Capheus more certain they could take down BPO. The sooner, the better. Shouldn’t be too long now.

“Have you always been an optimist?” Kiira asked.

“Yes.” After a pause, he added, “I got it from our mother.”

“What’s she like?”

To her amusement, Capheus dashed out of Kiira’s room to hunt down Nomi, who was sitting in the room she shared with Amanita reading _The Mystery at Lilac Inn_. Before long, he ran back into Kiira’s room with a printed photo in hand. A family photo from the day he gave his first election speech.

*

Riley woke up a few hours later and found Will asleep facing her, one arm tucked underneath her neck. Carefully, she pulled herself away and sat up. He stirred, but didn’t wake, and mumbled something under his breath. His hand reached out to touch the empty space where she was a few seconds ago.

She watched him for a few minutes before putting on the robe on the chair by her bed. The last thing she remembered was drifting off as Will held her on the stairs. It wasn’t a mystery how she made it back into her bedroom. She pulled up their blanket over his shoulder and planted a kiss on his head before heading out.

The hallway was silent at this time of day, and a quick glance at a clock nearby told her it was nearly midnight. She walked up the stairs and found Gina standing at the top near the railing, holding Amélie in her arms. The toddler turned at the sound of Riley’s footsteps and pointed, babbling something in French. 

The sound of her voice made Riley’s heart clench. Her grip tightened on the railing to steady herself, taking a deep breath. Gina muttered something to Amélie, words Riley couldn’t understand, and the toddler grinned, two large dimples forming on her rounded cheeks. Riley couldn’t help reciprocate with a slight smile of her own. 

Amélie tugged Gina’s hair, winding and unwinding her raven locks around her chubby fingers. Gina shifted the toddler in her arms so they both faced her. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Kala and Wolfgang are in the living room, if you’re looking for them.”

“Thank you,” Riley said again before shaking her head. “I’m not - do you need any help?”

She didn’t know why she’d asked. After Lúna, she hadn’t been able to go near a small child without feeling a burst of panic from the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m going to the kitchen,” said Gina. “Gotta prep a few things for breakfast tomorrow. Would you mind watching her?”

“Oh, I -”

“It’s alright,” Gina amended, sensing her hesitation. “I can ask Kala and Wolfgang.”

The image of Wolfgang holding a small child amused Riley. Her heartbeat began to slow down when she pictured Kala smirking at an exasperated Wolfgang, muscular arms holding a petulant toddler who prodded at his face. Before Gina could make her way to the living room, Riley spoke, stopping the younger woman in her tracks.

“I can do it.”

She followed Gina into the kitchen and settled herself on a stool, her back against the counter. The feeling of dread spiraled back into her mind at full-speed, but she ignored it. Riley shut her eyes tight and tried to banish the whispered protests in her mind once Gina settled the toddler into her lap.

On instinct, she wrapped her arms around Amélie’s midsection to keep her from slipping. She heard a soft whine, realized she was holding her too tight, and quickly adjusted her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no more protests coming from the child. Amélie’s skin was soft underneath the pink dress she wore. Riley was afraid she’d break.

Amélie tilted her head back as much as her body would allow, her hair tickling the bare skin above Riley’s chest. Their eyes met, baby blue against hazel. She blinked and cackled in amusement when Riley did the same, bouncing under Riley’s hold. Against all odds, Riley found herself chuckling.

“She likes you,” Gina observed from a distance, dicing mushrooms with an expert hand.

“She’s lovely,” Riley said after a pause, her voice quiet.

They remained silent for a few moments. Gina continued to prepare the ingredients for omelettes for breakfast the next morning. Riley could tell by her frown that she was deep in thought. Finally, Gina said, “Looks like she’s falling asleep.”

Amélie had stopped stirring in her lap. She was using Riley’s body as a pillow now, her eyes closing and opening with all her might, fighting the tiredness which threatened to overtake her. The adorable sight made Riley ache. With Gina’s help, Riley stood up from her stool, still holding the stubborn child.

“Might work better if you walk around a bit. The motion helps.”

“Do you do this often?” Riley asked.

Gina shrugged, putting away the chopped vegetables into Tupperware containers. “Now and then.” She stacked the boxes on a shelf in the fridge. “Families stay with us sometimes. Henrik and I help with the kids.”

“How many people have stayed here?”

The hostess pursed her lips, thinking. “Can’t count off the top of my head. But _oh_! Here -” she walked out of the kitchen, Riley following with a half-awake Amélie in tow. 

They made their ways down the hallway with small steps, exchanging amused smiles when the toddler finally decided to shut her eyes and relinquish control of her awareness to the realm of dreams, limbs relaxed with a look of utter peace on her face. 

Riley followed Gina, realizing they were near the basement stairs again. 

“We keep pictures of our old guests,” Gina said quietly. She looked at the wall along the staircase leading to the second floor. “Genevieve took most of them. She used to study photography.”

Riley hadn’t noticed the framed photographs when she passed by earlier. This was the part of the house Leon’s art hadn’t covered. The walls were left in the original off-white color, the paint chipping around the nooks and crannies. Some of the photos were smaller, featuring only one or two people. She recognized a long-haired Mavis sitting face-to-face with her stepfather at the kitchen table, wearing identical smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.

The other photos were wider, horizontal. In one, there was Leon with his jovial grin, rocking a full afro instead of dreadlocks. Next to him was the rest of his cluster save for Genevieve, their expressions unmistakable yet almost unrecognizable from the hosts Riley knew today. They were sitting around the living room with drinks in their hands, chatting with three other companions. She noticed scribbles on the lower right corner, words etched into the frame using a small blade. 

 _2014._ Followed by three vertical lines. | | |.

Her eyes widened. She counted twenty - no, _thirty_ \- photographs mounted on the walls. Some of them featured couples who looked at each other like nothing else mattered, and some featured families, parents with their children and the occasional pet. There was even one or two with old people sporting a cane or sitting in a wheelchair.

The lighting on this part of the hallway was dim, but Riley realized a third of the photos, including the one she saw, were black and white. The colored photos had no words or lines on their frames. She didn’t need to be a cop to deduce what the carvings meant.

“I don’t use these stairs often,” Gina confessed, her voice shaking.

“It hurts to remember,” said Riley.

Gina looked at her with an unnamable expression behind her eyes. “I come here to put up a new photo, sometimes,” she said finally. “Or to think.”

“What about?”

“Sometimes I wonder if what we do matters to them.” Gina looked at the photos again, eyes trained on a black and white portrait, fading remnants of a happier time. “But it’s not about them anymore.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe not to some people. But to me? To me it’s about us. It’s what we do to honor their memories that matters. We keep fighting. We keep hiding. We keep loving. We keep going.” She looked at at a colorful photo of a family with three children. “Otherwise it doesn’t matter what they did or died for.”

 _Keep going._ She’d spent years in the same place, shielding her mind from the overwhelming grief. But in the past months, on the run with a man she’d give up her life to protect, the armor she’d built had started to crumble.

“You keep going,” Riley echoed. The words lingering on the tip of her tongue. 

It pained her to say it out loud. Like she was making a vow. But as soon as the promise was made, she felt lighter.

Amélie snored gently. Riley exchanged a look with Gina, who showed her to the room on the second floor that passed for a nursery. The walls were filled with anthropomorphic animals inspired by cartoons. A star nightlight sat in one corner, emanating a soft yellow glow. The toddler was quiet when Riley laid her on the small bed and tucked her in. Before she closed the door, she bid the child a silent good night.

On their way downstairs, Riley’s eyes lingered on a smaller picture of a mother and her son, who she immediately recognized as Damien. The only thing that changed was his now fully grown front teeth. His silly grin and dark hair and freckles matched his mother’s.

“She dropped him off two years ago,” Gina explained.

“Why did she leave?”

“Some Headhunters were chasing them down in Athens, so she dropped him off here and travelled around looking for a new place to live. She even went back to her home in Surabaya for a bit.”

“Where is she now?”

Gina’s expressions turned grim, and Riley felt her heart drop. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’d lost contact after she got to Bangkok. The Archipelago hasn’t had any luck tracking her down.”

But her photo was colorful, and there were no engravings on the frame. With a pang, Riley realized it must have been a deliberate decision.

“Before she left, she said she’ll come back for him soon.” Gina took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears brimming in her eyes from falling. “He’s still waiting.”

Riley gritted her teeth, clenching her hand in a fist. A tear of frustration and anger stung her face. Her cluster had thrown the first punch against BPO, not knowing their actions had led to a war bigger than themselves. In this moment, she was reminded again why they had to go out and fight.

*

**July 25, 2017**

Versailles was less than an hour’s drive, but it was a close enough location to arrange the trade-off without raising the suspicion they were still in Paris. Their only intention was to get a closer look at Lila’s cluster, which seemed like a silly reason compared to their other battles, but over-preparing wouldn’t hurt. 

 _And_ , Nomi thought, clutching the small tracking device she held in her hand, _maybe now we can keep a tab on where they  go._

Will and Henrik were alone in the first van. Nomi and Sun were hiding in the back of the second van, with Kala, Wolfgang and Felix sitting up front. 

“Almost there,” came Amanita’s voice through the wireless device on Nomi’s ear. She heard Henrik and Felix give them the affirmative.

“I’m ready too,” she replied. “Any minute now.”

“Good luck, Noms.”

Nomi sighed. Sun patted her on the shoulder with a sympathetic look in her eye. Nomi would never stop feeling guilty for insisting she came alone on this mission. And by alone, she meant without Neets. 

They’d decided it was going to be a “show up, distract, plant the tracker and run” type of mission, so the less people in tow, the better. Last night, after hours of back-and-forth arguing and pleading, her fiancée had relented on the condition that she wouldn’t be excluded in any future battles.

But all three of the prominent fighters on their team were present in case Lila’s cluster got violent. Wolfgang had insisted he’d recovered, which meant Kala couldn’t be talked out of coming along. Kala had brought a small tranquilizer gun with the needles dipped in a new Blocker formula variation she’d been testing, a useful tool for future invasions. If all went well, she wouldn’t need to come out of her hiding spot. If it didn’t, she’d pointed out, she could at least make an experiment out of it.

“Where should we hide out?” asked Felix through the wireless system, slowing down the van he drove, which had most of the allies in tow.

“It’s an abandoned warehouse,” said Gina, taking over Neets’ microphone now. “Their van’s approaching the door on the north side. There’s a road right in front of that door. Henrik, you and Will can pull up across the road from them.”

“Alright, G,” Henrik responded. Nomi imagined him smiling.

“Be careful, alright?” said Gina. If they weren’t on Blockers, Nomi was sure the younger woman would have visited to give Henrik a piece of her mind. He’d more or less snuck out of the house and hid out in the van Will was planning to drive alone, and didn’t reveal himself until they were on the highway out of Paris. He’d insisted Will needed a backup in case he alone wasn’t enough of a distraction.

Henrik chuckled. “Aren’t I always?”

Gina tutted her tongue. Nomi was sure she was crossing her arms. “Felix,” Gina said instead, avoiding the topic altogether, “there’s a door on the south side that’s left open. You three can pull up there. _Quietly_. Sneak in, hide behind some cargo.”

“The perfect ambush,” Felix remarked, shifting the gears, turning towards the south side. He and Wolfgang might not reveal themselves at all, if Henrik and Will could hold their own. But a second line of defense was always necessary, especially since Kala was looking to conduct an experiment while they were at it.

“They stopped their van. Same one as last time. Just confirmed the license plate,” Neets was back again. 

Nomi muttered a _yes_ under her breath. They were using the same BPO-licensed van to do all their dirty work like she and Will had expected. It would make tracking them so much easier. All Nomi had to do now was plant the bug on the underside of the van, and get the hell away before anyone noticed.

“Sun,” said Neets. Nomi took off the ear piece and placed it between her ear and Sun’s so they could both hear. “Take care of Noms for me, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Amanita.” Sun’s hands clutched into fists. “I’ll cover her.”

Gina and Neets bid them good luck again as Will parked the van.

*

Will and a dark-haired man in sunglasses stood on opposite sides of the narrow street. The warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, a perfect meeting spot like last time. At this time of day no car would pass by this isolated road.

The man pulled out a piece of folded paper from his jacket’s inner pocket and waved it at Will before tucking it back. Henrik sat in the car per Will’s instruction, crouched under the passenger side window so he couldn’t be spotted. But they both came off Blockers for this mission, so the Dutch man appeared next to him, giving him a thumbs-up. Will tried to keep his expression neutral. He blinked twice in return, careful not to draw suspicion.

“Bring her out,” Lila’s cluster-mate demanded. Will nodded, making his way towards the back, and pulled out a large, bulky chain of two dozen keys from his back pocket. 

The plan was to stall and hope Lila’s cluster-mates would come over and tell Will to hurry up. Or attack him. Or both. Though whether all seven of Lila’s cluster would come over or not, no one could guess. Will tested the keys on the chain one by one, pretending to be annoyed every time the one he tried wouldn’t open the lock.

Like he’d expected, the man in the sunglasses walked over and snatched the chain of keys from Will’s hand. Two other people climbed out from the door of the van facing away, and ran over. One was the scrawny Scot with the woolen hat who was there on the night they captured Lila. The other was a shaggy-haired albino man in all-black.

The albino tried to pin Will’s arms behind his back, but cop training had taught him the foolproof way to resist. He elbowed the man in the nose and found himself in a fight with the albino and the Scot. 

 _Need help?_ Henrik thought, his form appeared next to him.

 _I think I got it._ Will threw a punch, hitting the Scot on the side of his jaw. _But if more of them come over from that van,_ he added as a second thought, _then drive away. They’ll chase after you. I’ll get a ride from Felix._

Sun visited, nodding in approval at his plan before vanishing.

The two men he fought were scrappy, hard to knock down, and Will felt himself tiring out. Maybe it was their plan all along. A third man in thick black braids and a tiger shirt dashed over from the van to help his cluster-mates.

 _He’s down to the last five keys,_ Henrik appeared again, sounding urgent now. Will groaned as he blocked an attack from the third man, not noticing the Scot, who had kicked into his side with a hard-soled foot. Tiny white dots flickered around in Will’s vision, and in his moment of distraction, he found himself locked in a chokehold.

Will was on the verge of blacking out. He gasped for air, squinted and made out the form of Felix and Wolfgang dashing out from their hiding spot inside the warehouse to intervene. They ran out f at full speed and charged at the mob of three men. If Will wasn’t on the verge of passing out, he’d have wondered why only four men were present, and where the rest of the cluster went. 

But it would appear Lila’s cluster-mates had improved their combat skills since their last confrontation, for neither Felix nor Wolfgang could get through to Will.

*

Kala stifled a gasp from her hiding spot behind the northern doors of the warehouse, watching Felix and Wolfgang fight Lila’s cluster-mates back-to-back as the albino man continued to choke Will. Wolfgang’s gun had been knocked aside, a few paces away from his reach. Felix hadn’t had the sense to pull out his from his pocket before he’d rushed out to join his brother, and now he had no time to retrieve it. They pummeled their opponents with their fists however they could, dodging most of the blows.

Kala had been too worried about Wolfgang and Felix to notice a woman crouching from behind the van, out of sight from the fighting mob — until the woman pulled out a gun and aimed for Wolfgang’s head.

Before the woman could pull the trigger, Kala ran out from her hiding spot, all judgement out the window. She grabbed the woman’s right wrist and tried to snatch the gun away, both women kneeling. Kala’s knees scrapped against the gravel through the fabric of her pants. They initiated their own round of ill-matched wrestling. The woman pushed her knee into Kala’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She fired the gun while Kala’s hands were still clawing on top of hers.

Thankfully, it didn’t sound like the bullet hit anyone. Kala could make out the sound of Wolfgang shouting something in German. She heard Felix bellowing out curses in multiple languages from where he was still locked in combat. She shifted her body, ignoring the protests of her bruising muscles and the growing nausea pounding through her head from the impact earlier, and angled her arm so her left hand pulled out the tranquilizer gun in her back pocket before the woman could intervene. 

At this proximity, it wasn’t hard to lodge the small needle into the woman’s neck. Their eyes locked, and Kala felt the full force of their connection clicking in place before the woman snarled, distracted enough for Kala to finally yank the pistol from her hand and toss it away, so far she could’ve sworn she heard it hit the outside wall of the warehouse. She heard the buzzing in the back of her mind, the faint hint of the Blocker kicking into place slower than the speed of the usual dose in pill form. 

But before she could react to her apparent success, she heard the sound of a flick, something metallic like a blade. The woman jabbed her arm forward, and Kala felt a sharp pain on her right side. The corner of the woman’s mouth quirked, a victorious smirk. Voices hissed in the back of their shared consciousness, fading as the buzzing grew louder. 

Then Sun and Nomi were rushing to her aid. Nomi yanked off her flannel shirt and pressed it against Kala’s side. Sun threw punches and kicks at Lila’s cluster-mate with a newfound rage, but by some unfortunate miracle the woman had managed to dodge all her hits. Then, before Sun could tackle her down to the ground, she dashed to the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. 

Kala heard the sound of tires screeching before she closed her eyes and pleaded to Ganesha she wouldn’t fall unconscious.

*

When Sun was sure Nomi and Wolfgang got Kala covered, she made a beeline for the bulk of the action in the middle of the street. Henrik had, against Will’s orders, decided to come to Will’s aid instead of take off with their van, which might have been a fortunate thing, considering Sun had to fight her way past the three men having a go at poor Felix before she could come to Will’s rescue. 

Sun knocked the other men down for a long enough time to catch a glimpse of the man in the sunglasses, the first of Lila’s cluster who emerged from their van, throw open the door to their van. He cursed in what she recognized as Japanese before making a go at the newly-freed Will, who was desperately gasping for air, finding his balance. Henrik stood in front of Will and blocked the attack. The Japanese man grabbed him by the collar and slammed his body against the side of the van and threw punches with his free hand.

The albino man Sun was fighting was tricky. He had nimble hands and strong arms, and although his aims weren’t what she’d call “calculated”, he moved in an agile manner Sun normally wouldn’t expect from someone of his build. It was a challenge to knock him down, and it took more time than usual, but eventually she was able to get away fast enough to rescue Henrik before the Japanese man could deal a fatal blow.

Will stood up and made a move to join her, but she shook her head. _Get Felix’s van,_ she thought, throwing a punch at the Japanese man. _Help Henrik. Get Kala and the others._

Sun’s other hand was gripping the back of the jacket. She wanted to grab him by the arm and throw him over her shoulder, but the man wriggled himself loose from his jacket and ran towards the driver’s side of the van Will had driven. Cursing, Sun turned around to look for Lila’s other cluster-mates, only to find them scrambling into the trunk of the same van. They slamming the doors shut, and the Japanese man drove away.

 _Don’t go after them,_ thought Will, bringing their second van around. Sun to climbed into the passenger’s side and closed the door. Everyone else must have been in the back.

“But -”

Shaking his head, Will started the van and tossed a Blocker into his mouth, downing it with a bottle of water before passing her the rest of the bottle of pills. She took one, accepting the water Will handed to her, and knocked it down, cringing in anticipation of the unpleasant buzzing as the chemicals worked their ways into her head.

“Nomi got the tracker planted, didn’t she?” asked Will.

“Yeah, but -”

“And you got the jacket. Check the inside pocket.”

Her finger touched against the piece of paper she didn’t know was there. She pulled it out and gasped when she noticed the printed words. They looked like -

“Names of BPO’s _sapiens_.” Will said, beaming. “Well, some of them. And an address.”

“Veronika’s address?”

“The most recent one, anyway. She’ll probably have others -”

“But it’s a start,” Sun finished his sentence. She turned and frowned at the divider between them and the back trunk, “How’s Kala?”

Will fished out the wireless earpiece Felix had left on the seat before he exited the van earlier and passed it to Sun. She pushed the small button on the side and waited for a signal.

After a few seconds, she heard static from the other end, before, “Hello?”

“Nomi. We got the list. How’s Kala?”

“Stable.” She could hear the relief in Nomi’s voice. “We’ve staunched the bleeding. She’s awake. Doesn’t seem like the blade cut too deep. Thank _God_.”

Will looked at her with a puzzled glance. She gave him a curt nod, and they both sighed in relief. “Are Henrik and Felix okay?” Will asked. Sun relayed the question.

“Yeah. Just bruised. A _lot_ ,” said Nomi. “I contacted Neets and Gina. They’re calling in a doctor with the Archipelago’s help. I’m so glad we didn’t go with Nantes.”

Sun murmured an agreement. A city four hours’ drive away from Paris would’ve put any injured person at risk on their way back, even if Kala’s condition seemed stable for now. As they drove onto the highway with one less van in tow but no one in mortal peril, Sun wondered whether they were getting too used to going all-out in their battles. She wondered if they were really as undefeatable as most of their sensate allies claimed, or if there were other reasons they always seemed to make it out of their fights unscathed.

One possibility was, she looked down at the paper in her hand, this list was merely a decoy, like their arranged trade-off with Lila’s cluster. Another was Veronika had ordered everyone to refrain from killing until she could get to them personally. ( _It’s what your brother would have done,_ said a voice in her mind, one that, strangely enough, sounded like Detective Mun.)

The last possibility would be that this was a distraction. From what, she wasn’t sure. A way to draw out the fighters among them so BPO could kidnap the rest of their allies? She swallowed, shaking her head when Will asked if something was wrong. _It couldn’t be,_ she reasoned. _Nomi just called them. They’re fine. They’re all fine._

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing.

*

Jonas hadn’t expected anyone to get hurt.

Perhaps the August 8 cluster had had too many successes since the last time they’d nearly fallen prey to Whispers’ operation, but when Amanita said Kala had gotten cut with a blade, he felt a pounding in his head. He breathed in and out, slowly, trying to appear calm and collected as always. After everything, this would be the worst time to draw suspicion.

 _Why are you doing this, Jonas?_ said a voice in his mind, one that sounded like Will. _Why?_

He shook his head to get rid of the thought, knowing he was on Blockers, and there was no trace of memory anyone could detect after he had taken a new dose an hour ago. He’d let his previous dose wear off long enough to contact Stanley, one of his oldest friends in the Veracity operation base near Paris. One of the few who’d understand.

Jonas had met Stanley behind the tall bushes in the back garden shortly after. The retired scientist had given him a syringe filled with a thick yellow liquid before going back to the van he’d driven over, parked a five minutes’ walk away out of sight. Jonas had hidden the syringe in the back pocket of his jeans next to the injectable Blocker he’d nicked from the lab supply closet earlier. He’d returned to the house through the side door moments before Will and the others parked their remaining van in the driveway.

Everyone in the house, save for the children who had fallen asleep under Miki and Genevieve’s watch, were too preoccupied with bringing the Archipelago doctor up to speed to notice he’d slipped out. Moments later they busied themselves by towing a half-conscious Kala to the basement, some turning back to help Felix and Henrik, who limped down the stairs, looking worse for wear. 

All the injured people were being treated in the lab. The counters were cleared of all beakers and chemicals, acting as temporary operation tables. The Archipelago doctor barked out orders for everyone else to help. He instructed Wolfgang to remove Nomi’s shirt around Kala’s torso. Wolfgang’s hands were steady like always, but he gritted his teeth when he peeled the fabric away, and his eyes screamed murder when his fingers became stained with Kala’s blood.

“No damage to the internal organs,” Jonas heard the doctor say a few moments after he’d shone a flashlight around the cut. “But we need to disinfect the wound. And she’s going to need stitches.”

Jonas wanted to linger, to see if Felix and Henrik didn’t have any internal damage either. But he slipped out of the door of the lab before he had a chance to convince himself to stay. There was work to be done.

Deep down, Jonas had hoped he was wrong. He had hoped Will’s cluster would change their minds and bring Lila along for real after all. Whether Lila’s cluster would have managed to save her from there would have been another matter, one he wouldn’t be responsible for no matter the outcome.

It would have spared Will and the others from the rage that would surely come from this betrayal.

But Jonas couldn’t take sides. Not for his own sake, and not for Angelica’s. He couldn’t choose between Lila’s cluster and Will’s. And after siding with one for too long, it was only fair, only sensible, to lend a hand to the other.

Lila’s room was on the other end of the basement, and he walked slowly, ears trained in case anyone else came downstairs and caught him in the act. No one stopped him. The keys he’d stolen jingled in his pocket along with the bottle of Blockers, and with a sigh, he pulled it out and jammed it into the knob, hearing Lila’s surprised gasp on the other side.

He pushed the door open to a slit.

“Jonas?” She quirked an eyebrow, scanning the area behind him. “You’re alone?”

“If you want to leave, follow me now. Quietly.”

“ _Now_ you’ve decided to help?”

He shot her a glare. Lila rolled her eyes and tip toed out of the room and shut the door gently behind her, careful not to make a sound. He gestured at the stairs a few paces away, the barely used one on the far end of the house. She stepped in front of him. Before she could start climbing, Jonas pulled out Stanley’s syringe and injected the yellow into the back of Lila’s neck. He put a hand over her mouth before she could protest.

“This paralyzes the eye muscles temporarily,” he whispered into her ear before pushing her forward. “It’s relatively quick-acting, but you’ll be able to make out the steps on the stairs. Your vision acuity will start to fade. You won’t be able to see much else, so I would suggest you don’t try to deduce your whereabouts.”

She opened her mouth when he released his hand. It looked like she was going to curse, but she held her tongue. Slowly, she laid a hand on the railing and pulled herself up, careful to keep the floorboard from creaking. He walked behind her, a hand on her shoulder to guide her out the back door. It clicked shut behind him, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

This was it. He’d done it. There was no turning back.

The cluster and allies wouldn’t notice Jonas had left the lab until half an hour later, after Kala’s wound had been stitched up and Henrik and Felix had been given the appropriate medication for their contusions. They would not find their prisoner’s room unlocked for another ten minutes. 

When they did, Jonas and Lila was already in the back of a rental van driven by Stanley, on their way out of Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T HIT ME! *RUNS FAR, FAR AWAY*


	23. She tore down my walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some good things happen to the cluster for a change, but the air of impending doom lingers.
> 
> “I used to be like you. Like an exposed nerve of a broken tooth. I used anything I could to insulate. Music... books... booze. Anything I could to keep myself separate from the rest of the world. Eventually I felt protected, you know, I... I felt safe. But also... I never felt so... completely alone. Then one day a friend, she gave me a gift. She took away my armor. She tore down my walls. Her gift... it reminded me what it felt like... to be alive.”  
> — From S1E1, “Limbic Resonance”
> 
> (Imagine this quote without the creepy Nyx context. It’s actually a good quote. Damn that man for wasting it on his own agenda.)
> 
> **TW for mentions of sexual harassment.**

******July 26, 2017**

It was five hours after Jonas and Lila escaped when Will made contact with him. Will’s first instinct was to punch Jonas in the face. The only thing that stopped him was Nomi’s grip on his arm back in the living room of their safe house reminded him of the priority. Squinting, he looked around at the darkness of Jonas’ surroundings.

Lila was leaning against the corner, knees against her chest. He tried to make contact with her — he’d interrogated the Neapolitan once, but had less success than Riley — but was surprised to find her mind undetectable except for the faint buzzing sound.

“I’ll make sure she stays on Blockers,” Jonas’ voice cut in. His form was barely noticeable, but once he’d announced his presence, it was hard for Will to miss the sight of him sitting cross-legged against the wall? The van? The -

“We’re in the back of a van, yes,” he answered.

“What the hell?!” was Will’s response.

“There are things I cannot tell even you, Will,” said Jonas, drawling, his voice reverberating around the space. 

Lila sat up straight, then. Her hands fumbled around in the air. When she spoke, the bitterness was hard to miss. “A visitor? How delightful.”

“What’s up with _her_?”

“I procured a medication that paralyzed her eye muscles. She should recover in another hour or so. But she wasn’t able to see the details of your hideout. And rest assured, I don’t plan to divulge your whereabouts.”

Will crossed his arms. “How thoughtful.”

Jonas shrugged. “I did what I had to.”

“ _Why_?”

“I need her assistance in the next stage of _my_ operation, Will. Like you needed the information from her cluster for yours.”

Will sputtered, incredulous. “Since when did you get your own agenda?”

“I’ve always had my own agenda. I was just waiting for the right time.”

“After all the -” he put his face in his hands, and felt himself kick a coffee stand back in the living room in Paris, before Nomi laid a hand on his shoulder and whispered soothing words in his ears - “You know what? I don’t fucking care anymore. Do whatever the hell you want. But if BPO catches you again, it’s all on you.”

“Understood.” Jonas sighed. He pulled out the bottle of Blockers he’d stolen and some water, swallowing one capsule before Will could get a chance to throw a punch.

Will found his consciousness back in the living room, and his fist landed on the couch cushion. Nomi pulled his arms behind his back as best she could before he could try to hit something again. 

 _So that’s it, then?_ he thought, knowing there were a few seconds when Jonas could still hear.

 _I’m sorry, Will,_ Jonas thought back. Will couldn't trust the sincerity in Jonas' voice. _I wish I could tell you, but for your own safety, I believe it’s best you don’t know for the time being._

“You don’t get to decide!” Will shouted out loud, bellowing at an empty couch he faced. “You don’t get to decide what we shouldn’t know!”

 _I’ll see you again,_ thought Jonas, before the Blocker kicked in.

*

Breakfast was a silent affair that morning. Wolfgang hadn’t left Kala’s side since they’d carried her back to her room, and Riley had brought up a tray for them. Dani started fussing over Felix as soon as he came down, and although he played it cool and insisted he was barely hurt, never mind the way he winced every time he turned to reach for something, his smug grin suggested he enjoyed the attention. 

Henrik, however, was desperately trying to avoid the same attention from Gina. He wore a bandage across his forehead. He’d gotten a cut — apparently Lila’s cluster-mate had worn rings — but nothing severe enough to require stitches.

“What if he had a blade?” Gina whispered, their voices muffled against the sound of the sizzle of the frying pans where he was making scrambled eggs.

“He _didn’t_ ,” he insisted, turning to give her a reassuring smile. “It’s just a scratch."

“But your bruises -” she reached to graze her fingertips against his blue button-up, careful not to prod against the contusions on his skin.

“- Are only bruises,” he finished for her. “Doctor said no internal damage. I’m fine, _schatje_.”

“Yeah. This time,” she mumbled.

“I’ll be careful next time. You’re not getting rid of me so soon.”

She hummed, not fully convinced, and plucked the spatula from his hand. “Promise?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He raised his hands in surrender, laying down the pan. She took the opportunity to snatch it over by the handle with her free hand. She waved at a chair with the spatula and gave him a stern librarian-esque look until he gave in and sat down.

Riley and Will looked at their exchange and laced their hands under the table. When Henrik sat down, Amanita winked, making Will blush to everyone’s amusement.

“We _were_ pretty lucky,” Nomi pointed out. “God, we could’ve -” 

She paused. No one needed to finish her thought. Across the table, Kiira frowned, twirling a strand of tight curls with one finger, lost in thought. Capheus noticed the change in her expression. He turned to Mavis for answers. She shrugged.

After a moment, Kiira said, “I was helping the doctor with Kala’s stitches yesterday. It was -” she hesitated.

“What is it?” asked Nomi.

“It was a clean cut,” she said. “Straight, no turn of the blade down the middle.”

Nomi frowned, too. “You think she did it on purpose? But why didn’t she -” she sighed, stopping herself again.

“I overheard something about Lila’s cluster, when I worked at BPO,” Mavis chipped in. “The higher-ups knew all eight of them. But they seemed scared of this one woman. They called her Marcela — that’s all I could overhear. Did she do this?”

“It _was_ a woman,” Nomi remembered. “Only one woman showed up last night.”

“If we assume it was her,” Mavis added, “why didn’t she go for the kill? Unless -”

“She meant to keep Kala alive,” Kiira finished for her. “The position of the cut seemed deliberate. Deep enough to draw blood, but not enough to puncture any organs.”

Capheus looked at his sister. “You think she wanted to scare us off?”

“Seems like it,” Kiira said. She turned to Nomi. “And you said they were close when she pulled out the blade?”

“Yeah. Really close.”

“It had to be calculated,” she concluded. “And Marcela would have to know a lot about human anatomy if she’d made the cut so quickly in the middle of a struggle.”

“She could’ve been an assassin,” Mavis speculated. “That’ll scare anyone.”

An assassin. If that was the case, Kala had had a very narrow escape.

“But _why_?” Capheus voiced the question on everyone’s minds. “What was she after?”

“When Lila was looking for Wolfgang, she said she wanted _help_ ,” said Will. 

“And only five people showed up for the trade-off,” Nomi remembered.

Capheus perked up. “You don’t think BPO did something to her cluster?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Amanita, exchanging a worried look with everyone else. “But if they’re asking for help, they’ve got the worst way of showing it.”

*

“Is the full Hazmat gear really necessary?” Lila complained, tugging at the tight strings of the oxygen tank behind her back.

Jonas shut her up with a sigh as they rode up to the elevator of the Chicago facility. Their arrival had been smoother than planned, thanks to the Veracity infiltrators Jonas had contacted prior to their landing. He’d timed his Blocker intake so he could get a few minutes’ window in between his doses, not enough time for Headhunters to deduce his whereabouts, but sufficient for contacting old friends.

The Egyptian had been moved several times during his capture, though the Archipelago had always been on the lookout for his transfers. Whispers had known Jonas and Kareem were old friends, though no one in the Archipelago had heard of Jonas’ escape save for the few he trusted to keep this discreet. 

“This is no time to wonder about fashion, Lila,” he whispered back. It was a good thing elevator surveillance didn’t come with voice recordings.

“Did my cluster agree to this?” she asked. “When you told my cluster you’d rescue me, did you tell them you were going to blind me and ship me off to Chicago?”

“The agreement was I release you if the August 8 cluster didn’t. I said nothing about bringing you back to them.”

If it weren’t for the masks, Jonas would probably find her rolling her eyes.

“If you’re unsatisfied with your arrangement, I can contact Will and have you sent right back to their basement.”

She sounded like she was going to say something, perhaps give him a piece of her mind for forcing her into this deal, but the elevator stopped, and she was sensible enough to keep her mouth shut.

The elevator door opened, and they found themselves face to face with four guards standing outside, blocking the double door to the interrogation room. Keeping his hands from shaking, Jonas took out the ID of the man he’d stolen the suit from. His contacts had assured him the man was appointed to Kareem.

“The Chairman said the prisoner is not to be tended to until tomorrow,” said the guard.

Jonas turned and gave Lila a small nod. Keeping her voice low, she said, “We’ve been informed the prisoner’s Blocker wore off early. We’ve been ordered to tend to him at once.”

“Ordered by who?”

Words weren’t going to help with this current mission, Jonas decided. He tugged at the elastic behind his mask, making sure Lila could see his signal. She mumbled something about searching for the message and reached for the communication device in her back pocket — a simple miniature tablet designed for the higher-ups and the lower employees to communicate and keep up with BPO’s operations.

But instead of the tablet, which they’d left at the bottom of the basement staircases after they’d gotten changed, she pulled out a gun. Before the guards could draw out their tasers, she shot the guard nearest to her in the chest. Jonas followed suit, pulling out his own gun.

And was zapped by the taser barbs that shot out from one of the other guards’ hands.

Jonas could understand why Sun was shaken by the contraption now. It was like tiny wires had wormed their ways into his veins. His muscle twitched, and the barbs scratched his muscles from the inside out. He gritted his teeth and did his best to stop a scream from escaping. It would have been a dead giveaway.

Fortunately, the source of his shock died down. Seconds later the barbs were wrenched from his torso. He squatted and gasped for air, squeezing his eyes shut until the dizziness subsided and his heart rate slowed back to normal.

Jonas put a hand over the two small cuts where the barbs had punctured through his Hazmat suit and his skin. He pressed lightly, gritting his teeth when the pain hit. When he pulled his hand away, there were droplets of blood on his gloved fingers. The injuries weren’t severe, but they were jarring enough for him to cringe at the spot on his torso where the white fabric stained red.

“You’re _useless_.” Lila hoisted him up by the underarm.

“I did take your expertise into consideration for this particular plan,” he croaked.

She scoffed, sauntering into the room. “You’d be dead if you didn’t.”

“Much appreciated.” He resisted the urge to groan before he followed suit.

Kareem was awake when they entered, breathing raggedly. His face was gaunt and gray-tinged. The dark purple rings underneath bloodshot eyes and dribbles of dried blood down his chin made him looked like he’d climbed straight out of a casket, out of a graveyard underneath a haunted hospital.

He looked like he’d prepared to snarl, but stopped himself upon seeing the red spots on Jonas’ suit. “You got f-fucking shot,” he said, his voice hoarse, eyes wide. He curled his mouth into a demented smile. “Hope that -” he wheezed - “that kills you, _scum_.”

With a sigh, Jonas pulled up his mask, revealing his face. “My sources tell me your lobotomy is scheduled for tomorrow, Kareem,” he informed. He stepped aside and pulled open a nearby drawer to fish out a body bag. 

“Jonasss,” slurred Kareem. “’S about time, mate.”

Upon closer inspection, his pupils were dilated. What drug they injected him with, Jonas didn’t want to stay long enough to find out.

“We don’t have long until someone realizes there are four dead guards outside this door. So I would appreciate if you could keep quiet while we disguise you as a corpse.”

Kareem mumbled something in Arabic. They took it as a _yes_ , and placed the body bag beside him on the stretcher. On the count of three, they rolled him in, adjusting the fabric before pulling the zipper shut. 

“Where now?” asked Lila.

“The morgue,” said Jonas, looking at the watch he’d placed outside the sleeve of his Hazmat suit. “Then we’ll pretend this patient -” he walked to the end of the stretcher, and together, they started pushing it out the door towards the elevator - “was a lobotomy gone wrong.”

*

In her office in London, Veronika sighed. She looked across her desk at Bernard Kolovi, who looked her in the eye, calm as ever as he delivered the bad news.

“They didn’t get Lila back?” she asked, trying not to sound too agitated. She scribbled a few words on a notepad before tearing off the paper to hand to the Professor. 

_July 14th. Paris._

“The August 8 cluster didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain. Maitake said they didn’t bring Lila to the trade at all.”

That was hardly shocking. Truth be told, she’d anticipated another betrayal from the rebels’ end. They never played by the rules. But what surprised her was, once again, the rogue sensates had made it out of the fight unscathed.

As if to answer her question, the Professor added, “Mrs Rasal was injured. Marcela said she’d cut her with a blade.”

Veronika raised an eyebrow. “Dead?”

“She hadn’t had time to finish her off. They came prepared.”

That gave her a pause. It was the first time she’d heard of a failed assassination attempt from Marcela. Though to some extent it was a relief — she’d wanted the entire cluster together. Then the Professor could conduct his experiments to their full extent before she finished them off one by one.

“I thought you wanted them alive,” the Professor remarked, sensing what Veronika was about to say. It was unnerving when a fellow _sapien_ exhibited a skill akin to the sensates’ powers. Bernard knew her well, but even then -

She shook the thought from her head. She stood up and walked over to the coat rack, pulling off her black trench coat with her favorite dagger brooch, then snapping her finger to turn off her desk lamp. Following her cue, the Professor stood up as well.

“I do want them alive,” she told him. “But Lila’s cluster understand my intention, and I expected them to do the opposite of what they were told.”

“Ahh.” He opened the door and gestured for her to exit, closing it behind him.

“Precisely. I wonder what made them change their mind.” She frowned. By this stage, there was no reason to hope they’d come to their senses. She wished she could see what they were hiding. The surveillance from their rooms gave away nothing. Perhaps she ought to ask Karl or Milton to take a look inside their minds.

They stepped inside the elevator.

“Any news on the August 8 cluster’s location?”

Veronika tutted her tongue. “They have hackers in their midst. It’s difficult to find them through surveillance. Perhaps it’s time for Plan B.”

“And what would that be?”

“Similar to my recruitment strategies.” She took out a compact mirror and a tube of red lipstick, and retouched her makeup as the elevator came to a descent on the ground floor, in preparation for her meeting with a BBC journalist later this evening. “Interrogations.”

“Find a sensate who’s been in contact with them?”

“Precisely.” She buttoned her trench coat and slipped the makeup back into her purse. “And we can search for a contact within a small enough range. We know they’re hiding in Western Europe, based on their trading arrangements in France with Lila’s cluster. No large group would arrange to travel across continents for a decoy trade-off.”

“A reasonable analysis. And they can’t be far from a major city.”

She sneered, blue eyes glinting. “There’s only so many places their possible contacts could be. Send a few men on the streets as lookout, and they should be spotted in no time.”

“No time at all,” echoed Professor Kolovi.

*

**July 27, 2017**

Nomi found herself drawn to cafés. There was something profoundly welcoming about the smell of the coffee, the whirring of the machines, the quiet chatters of the patrons… On lazy Sundays, she liked to find a nook in the café near City Lights where Neets worked, a quiet corner where she could work on her blog and watch people go about their day.

She and Amanita had developed their own little tradition. Every time they travelled for a romantic getaway, they’d search the internet for the best coffee shop in the area and spend their first few hours there sampling their local selection of specialty drinks. So now that Nomi and her fiancée found themselves in Iceland, they gravitated towards Riley’s favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood where she lived.

“You think this will work?” asked Amanita, leaning in close. They scanned the overhead menu for something to order.

“It should.” Nomi looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “These people have eyes and ears everywhere. And Lito’s not exactly hard to miss.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t wanna be him right now.” 

Nomi smirked, picturing poor Lito surrounded by a gaggle of admirers at seven in the morning, assuming his Pride video had gotten hits from Iceland. Usually Lito would have been delighted to greet his fans, but when their intention was to draw BPO’s attention to their location, it took away most of the excitement.

The man in front of them moved away, having received his drink on a small wooden tray with intricate floral carvings at the edges. 

“ _Góðan dag_!” greeted the cashier. 

Before Amanita could open her mouth to explain she couldn’t speak Icelandic, Nomi had already greeted the woman back in the same language _and_ ordered two mochas with whipped cream, knowing they’d need a double energy boost.

They stepped aside to let the next person order. “I forgot about the language thing,” Amanita said, flashing a conspiratorial smile. “That’s the first time I heard you speak one.”

“Riley’s not awake yet, so -” she tapped the side of her head and winked. 

Neets’ eyes widened before she pulled Nomi close by the shoulder. “You sound hot in Icelandic, Noms,” she whispered, making Nomi blush.

The friendly cashier returned with their tray after taking the next order. They found a corner booth with cushy seats, a perfect place to cuddle up in private and keep an eye on the front door in case Lito and his family walked in to join them. Amanita slid in and pulled Nomi along, ignoring the seat on the other side. From the window, they could see the empty streets save for one or two people on the sidewalk strolling about.

“Nice view,” said Nomi, admiring the cute shop fronts on the other side. She cupped her hands around the red patterned mug to warm herself up. Despite Riley’s warnings, they had come a little underdressed, particularly so when they’d landed at five in the morning.

Neets turned to peck her on the cheek. “It is,” she said, admiring her fiancée. 

Before Nomi could say something sweet in return, Neets had stolen the mug from her hands, brought it to her lips, and bit off a chunk of whipped cream from the top before placing it back on the table.

“Cheeky.” Nomi pretended to be annoyed. “You’ve got some on your nose.”

Amanita swiped the cream from the tip of her nose and sucked her finger, eyebrow raised in challenge. Nomi pulled her closer by the waist and kissed the remainder of the cream off her nose, giggling when she heard a squeal.

“Nice comeback,” said Neets. She reached for her own mug, ate some more cream with a spoon, and blew on the drink to cool it down. She moaned after she took her first sip.

“Good?”

Nodding, Neets shoved the mug under her nose. “Try it.”

They passed the first mug back and forth in comfortable silence. Nomi took a Blocker pill in the meantime, and with the newfound security, they admired the café, enjoying each other’s presence. It was a rare opportunity to be so far away from their other allies.

“Call it a date?” asked Neets. Of course she knew what was on her mind.

“Remember our first?”

“Mm.” Neets cuddled against her again, their heads leaning against the soft backs of the chair at the booth. “The first chapter.”

It was three days after Neets had asked her number in City Lights, five days after Pride. They’d met up at the café near the bookstore which would later become their favorite hangout spot. Nomi had gotten there fifteen minutes early.

And Neets had come ten minutes late.

Nomi had begun to think Amanita wasn’t going to show up. But then there she was, crashing through the door. She’d weaved rainbow streaks into her hair, and her long braids whipped around her shoulders as she scanned the room for her date. With her purple bold-patterned romper and a studded leather jacket, Amanita was a whirlwind of vibrant hues. She’d caught the attention of the whole room, including the barista, who stopped in the middle of mixing her drink to stare. 

But she only had eyes for Nomi. Nomi, who sat in a corner, her face masked behind an old worn copy of _The Secret of the Old Clock_ she always kept in her bag. She put the book away and caught Amanita’s attention with a shy wave. Amanita smiled and hurried over. The smile sent tingles up Nomi’s spine.

 _I’m so sorry,_ she’d said, plopping down on the seat opposite of Nomi. _I thought I’d be out by three, then we got held up by this one customer who couldn’t decide which Terry Pratchett novel to get, and he finally decided and I had to ring him up and his credit card was declined but he didn’t -_

 _It’s fine,_ Nomi interrupted before Amanita could work herself up into a frenzy. Amanita smiled again, this time in apology. Nomi chuckled.

They’d started chatting about their day, about what they did for a living, where they lived… Amanita had gone off on tangents more times than Nomi could count. Somehow they’d ended up talking about the merit of breakfast foods. The rabbit trails made her all the more endearing. Three hours later, before they’d parted, Amanita noticed the copy of the Nancy Drew book sticking out the top of Nomi’s bag.

_Saw you reading that when I came in. You’re in for a wild ride. Carolyn Keene is magic._

_I know,_ Nomi said, turning her backpack around show her a W.W.N.D.D. button among others. _I’ve been there._

 _What the hell._ Amanita leaned in to admire her collection. _Where have you been all my life?_

They’d met up every week after their first date, always at a wild place in San Francisco Nomi had never heard of. But Neets seemed to know all the cool neighborhoods like the back of her hand. When they weren’t meeting in person, they were texting. Amanita had a way of engaging her in conversation about the most mundane things in life and make her think. 

Before long, every week turned to every day, until they were seeing each other so much — before work, after work, at some indie bar in The Mission sharing a drink till midnight — they decided to move in together. 

 _Where have you been all my life?_ After they’d gone through hell and back, Nomi found herself asking the same question everyday.

“I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t walked into City Lights that day,” Nomi reflected, grabbing their second cup of mocha.

Amanita frowned, thinking. “That’s a problem for a parallel universe Noms.”

Nomi chuckled. “Wouldn’t wanna be her.”

“No,” Amanita brought up her left hand, examining the way the light glinted on the surface of the gem on her engagement ring. “I can’t even imagine.”

*

The streets of Reykjavik were quiet in the early morning except for the ebb and flow of the waves on the shore. The quaint, colorful houses with slanted roofs looked like a scene straight out of a painting. Hernando appreciated all forms of beauty, and after spending most of his days cooped up indoors, Iceland was a sight for sore eyes.

After Lila had escaped, some of them had decided to travel around and, if luck would have it, be spotted in a city far from Paris under BPO’s surveillance. They’d considered finding a new hideout altogether, but with the majority of the Archipelago on quarantine as a result of the recent troubles in the Blocker trade, it was difficult for Mavis’ contacts to find a place in close proximity to London. And it was crucial for them to stay close to the base of Veronika’s operations, in case they find themselves planning another raid.

Words he never thought he’d hear himself think.

The plan was to stay close to the neighborhood where Riley once lived and wait for Will to bring Riley’s father up to speed, though Hernando suspected it wasn’t the sole intention of Will’s visit. They’d arranged with Veracity agents to transfer Riley’s father to an Archipelago safe house after their meeting. Once BPO heard Lito’s cluster had been here, it would put the man in danger.

“It’s so… _calm_ ,” Dani said in a quiet voice, trying not to disturb the peace. 

“Feels like we’re intruding on a scene that’s meant to be left alone,” Hernando responded. He stopped in his tracks, and his family did the same. Frowning, he scrutinized a house which was painted sunset yellow, the paint chipping away at the corners of the panels, revealing the rusty texture underneath.

On his other side, Lito squeezed his hand and smirked. “One of your artistic reflections?”

“He’s always reflecting on something.” Dani tugged him on the arm. “Aren’t you?” 

He shrugged. “You could say that.”

They continued walking in silence, not mindful of the direction they were traveling. The soles of their shoes thudded against the ground in a sporadic fashion, a staccato of footsteps tapping a rhythm of their own creation. 

“Feels like we’re being watched,” Hernando said, his voice strained. The last time he set out to help Lito’s cluster on a mission, it was all too clear his lack of ability for combat put them in more jeopardy. But with their identities exposed, they, along with Nomi and Amanita, were the best baits. He prayed BPO’s eyes and ears wouldn’t relay the message back to the headquarters in time for an immediate capture.

“We might be,” Dani pointed out, whispering in case anyone was eavesdropping — it would be so easy to do in a place with little background noise. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not that.” Hernando shook his head. “It’s - it’s more of a feeling. We’re the only people here. If someone -” he pointed to the large drop-down window of a nearby house, the curtains drawn shut from the inside - “if someone looks out, they’ll see us. Just us.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lito. “I feel it too. Like we’re under a spotlight. Except we don’t know if anyone’s watching, or if everyone’s watching -”

Dani shot Lito a glare, looking between him and a visibly nervous Hernando, and mouthed _not helping_. Before long, both their arms were wrapped protectively around Hernando’s shoulder. Hernando felt his tension subside. Dani reached up her hand and tousled the hair on the back of his head, giving him a playful wink.

Though they were both capital cities, Reykjavik was completely different from Mexico City where he grew up. Hernando had always thought of skyscrapers and crowded streets as an extension of his home. In Mexico City, he brushed past the shoulders of pedestrians every time he walked down the street, living his life under public scrutiny. But he knew no one would stop and take a closer look at a random stranger. 

It was liberating to blend into the crowd. Or, in Lito and Dani’s case, saunter past them in fancy suits and gowns, flashing a smile at the camera, waving to the screaming fans. Here, there was no need to put up a front. And Hernando found the freedom unsettling.

They reached the end of the road and turned left to head to the coffee shop uphill, where Nomi and Amanita had gone an hour ago. On the way, all three of them remained silent. After staying in safe houses with more than a dozen people for a month, speaking out in the open with no one else around made them feel awkward. Vulnerable, even.

It was ironic, because Hernando used to crave this quiet freedom above anything else.

He’d always fallen for artists. Something about their expressiveness drew him to them. He was the connoisseur of artists’ personas, the aspects of themselves they chose to reveal to the public eye. But that wasn’t why he gravitated towards men with a penchant for making a statement. It wasn’t so much what they revealed he desired to see, but what remained hidden, reserved for a selected few.

When he was nineteen, he’d dated a man named José. José studied fine arts at the Academia de Artes where he was studying art history. They’d agreed to keep their relationship secret for the sake of their safety. Hernando had spent countless afternoons in José’s studio discussing the employment of shading techniques for anatomical sketches, or the implications of his pastel drawing of a pale orange sunrise…

José’s voice had a soft gravely cadence. When he spoke of his art, he sounded like whispering autumn winds. His studio was cramped with racks, paints and and canvases, and smelled of old acrylic. They barely had enough space to sit down at the equally crowded desk, but the studio was their safe space, a place where they could openly explore each other without facing judgement or consequences to their future careers.

They’d still worried they might be overheard. Their favorite time was after midnight, when other students who occupied the neighboring studios wasn’t there to listen in on their conversations. Back then Hernando had dreamed of moving to a place where the two of them could be free: a place where no one knew who they were, and no one cared.

He hadn’t realized they’d stopped in front of the quaint little café until Lito tapped him on the shoulder. Dani turned to him, eyebrow raised. He offered a small apologetic smile, and mumbled something about getting distracted.

“Something on your mind, Hernando?” Lito whispered close to his ear, pulling him by the arm until they were standing against one side of the café, away from the main road. 

“Just remembering.”

Lito touched his cheek. His thumbs pausing to stroke at Hernando’s beard, grinning at the way the hair scratched the surface of his palm. Lito used to complain his beard was too spiky, and it made his face itch whenever they kissed. But he’d gotten used to the feeling of the beard, like Hernando had gotten used to hiding his love behind closed doors.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Lito whispered, leaning in until their noses touched. He tilted his head. When he spoke, their lips touched. The warmth sent a shiver down his spine. “Here, we can be ourselves.”

Dani mouthed an _aww_. She’d leaned against the wall to give them a little space, but watched them intently, masking a smile. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

“That’s the problem,” Hernando whispered back, doing a double take when he discovered his voice was hoarse from arousal. He reminded himself to be discreet. “We have no disguise. They knows who we are. They know about -” he looked between himself, and Lito and Dani - “about _this_.”

“Because they know what they’re looking for.” Lito gestured to the front steps of the café, where a man and a woman holding hands stepped inside the glass door. “But these people? They don’t know us. They’re not looking for anything. To them we just _are_.”

“Are you sure we’ll -” he looked around again, making sure no one was eavesdropping - “we’ll be out on time? What if -”

Lito shushed him by putting a finger on his lips. Without thinking, Hernando crossed his eyes to look at it. His expression made all three of them break into fits of giggles.

When the laughter subsided, Lito reached for his hands. His hands were much warmer, bursting with his signature passion even in the direst of times. “We’ll be fine,” Lito reassured. “We always are. Have you ever seen us fail, Hernando?”

Hernando frowned, recalling all the times he’d seen Lito’s cluster put up a fight. He sighed. “You haven’t _yet_ -”

“Uh uh uh -” Lito held up his finger, shushing him before he could express the rest of his doubts - “and we don’t plan on it. End of discussion.”

“We’ll be _fine_ ,” Dani agreed. “We’ve survived worse. This?” She led the way to the front door of the cafe. “This is a vacation.”

“A romantic getaway,” Lito whispered in his ear, still holding his hand as they followed Dani.

Hernando blushed. It warmed him up from the inside. “If you say so,” he finally conceded.

“Ooh!” Dani squealed. She stopped in front of the door and saw the chalkboard sign, filled with beautiful calligraphy in several languages Hernando could admire all day long. She pointed at one line in English, written in pink words with blue accents. There was a miniature drawings of a mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows. “Perfect! Three for two!”

*

Riley’s house was like how Will remembered: warm, cozy, an eclectic mix of classical taste and modern, whimsical decors. Gunnar came to the back door as soon as he knocked. He’d been waiting in the kitchen, preparing a kettle for tea.

“You must be Will,” said Gunnar, beckoning him in. He looked around to make sure no one else was nearby, and shut the door behind him.

“Good morning,” said Will. He wished he didn’t have to be on Blockers, it would have been nice to speak Icelandic as a first impression. But he couldn’t risk it with Whispers snooping in the back of his head. 

And Riley couldn’t know. Not yet. He pulled down his gray hoodie to hide the bulge of the velvet box in the front pocket of his jeans. And then he realized he didn’t know where to put his hands. Did he always have this problem?

“A young woman phoned ahead. Told me you were coming.”

Nodding, Will reminded himself to thank Mavis for giving Gunnar a heads-up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“She also sent some documents over.” Gunnar frowned, moving to pick the kettle off the stove. “I don’t know how she got my email. I didn’t ask how she got my email. There was something about science. Genetics. Brain scans.”

Will froze in his tracks, a few paces from the kitchen table. “What did she send you?”

“I read through them all.” Gunnar sat down and laid the tray of two mugs and the kettle on the table, gesturing for Will to take the opposite seat. “Couldn’t really understand them, but it was about… neurobiology? There were brain scans. Data on genetics.”

“Oh. That.” Will sat down, but didn’t know where to look. He wanted to look Gunnar in the eye. He should. But it was difficult enough to come up with an explanation, let alone see Riley’s father react to it all. 

“I was hoping you can explain it,” said Gunnar, putting a teabag into each mug before adding the water. “The woman said you were with Riley in Amsterdam. And before that, at the new hospital here in Reykjavik they’d transferred her to.”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. At least Mavis had given him a viable starting point. “About the hospital… Did they say where they were taking Riley? Or why?”

“They said it was a private hospital. They wanted… They wanted to do a brain scan. Said she had an aneurysm, and they needed to see if there was a bigger problem.”

“That was a _lie_ ,” Will blurted out. Gunnar looked shocked at the harshness of his voice, and he felt himself flush. He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive. “I mean,” he continued, his voice calmer now, “they wanted to hurt Riley. Because there’s something different about her brain — about _our_ brains — and they wanted to study us.”

“By hurting you?”

Gunnar’s voice shook. Will looked up and saw his eyes had gone dim. “By hurting us. Yeah. But I got Riley out in time. They’ve been hunting us down. We had to hide.”

Riley’s father took a deep breath, leaning forward, propping a hand against his forehead. “They were the same people who took Ellen.”

His heart stopped a beat. “Riley’s mother?”

Gunnar looked at the rings on his hand, fixating on the wedding band, as if the memory was strong enough to bring her back. “She was ill, and they said - they said they needed to do a full brain scan, see if something’s causing the illness from inside her brain. They transferred her to the same facility. A week later they told us she passed away.” He shook his head.

“That was a lie,” Will said again, gentler now. He turned back and saw the old family portrait on the bookshelf by the piano: the three of them sitting in the living room on Christmas Eve, singing along as Gunnar played on the ukulele. 

When he turned back, Gunnar was wiping his eyes with a tissue. He breathed in, slowly, and shook his head. “I suspected something was off. They wouldn’t let us see her body. Said she was cremated. Something about biological contamination.”

 _Lies_. Will had spent his whole life trying to discover the truth behind Sara’s death. But for Riley and Sara’s parents, someone whose loved one had been taken from them without an explanation, the pain must have been unimaginable.

“You’re saying they tried to take Riley, too?” he asked.

Will nodded. “They did. We didn’t let them.”

“We?”

“There’s eight of us. We have a connection. We can… we can see into each other’s minds, feel each other’s emotions, guide each other’s bodies. I came to Iceland after they moved her. We got her out. But they’re after us. And they’re going to come after you, too,” Will added, remembering the real purpose of his visit — the one he’d told the others, anyway. “We’re meeting at the airport in three hours. We’re getting you to a safe house.”

“But who are these people?” 

“Some are like us, on the run.” Will tapped the side of his head. “Some are allies. Like you.”

“They’ve been helping Riley?”

“Yeah.” Will smiled, thinking of the hosts at the Paris safe house. “They’ve been helping all of us. And they’ll explain what’s going on better than I can.”

“What about you? What about Riley? And the others. Eight of you?” Gunnar was frowning, still processing what Will had told him. “Where will you go?”

“We’re safe, too, for now,” Will reassured. “Safer than when we were in Amsterdam.”

Gunnar nodded, taking his mug for a sip. Will could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. Not that anyone could blame him.

“Riley would’ve wanted to see you,” he explained, his hand fiddling with the box in his pocket again. “But she didn’t - we didn’t tell her -”

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“No!” Will said immediately. He scratched the back of his head. “It’s - I - I wanted to ask you something. Alone. She couldn’t know.” Gunnar’s face blanched, “N-Nothing bad, but -”

He didn’t know what else to say. He was making it worse, with all the rambling. Since when did he ramble? Did he always stutter when he was nervous? His ears felt warm. His cheeks, too. Was he blushing? Was it visible?

It must have been, because Gunnar scratched his goatee and leaned closer to look at Will with a quizzical glint in his eyes. “What is it she can’t know?”

Groaning, Will decided to give up talking altogether. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box with the ring. He opened it and laid it flat on the table, entirely visible under the warm glow of the kitchen overhead light.

“I know I’ve - I know it’s only been a year. More than a year, actually. Not _too_ long, but eighteen months, almost.” Will twiddled his thumbs, nervously fidgeting, his eyes trained on the velvet box, not daring to look at Riley’s father.

Silence. Gunnar was waiting for him to continue.

Will took a deep breath. “I’ve spent the past eighteen months with Riley. We were on the run from the people who tried to take her away. I was in a bad place, and she helped me. So much. I didn’t know where I’d be without her. I know it sounds like - like something everyone would say, but I don’t know how else to say it. I think -”

He looked up. He didn’t know what he expected to see in the older man’s face. Anger? Disappointment? Confusion?

But Gunnar didn’t looked like he was passing any judgement. Instead, he gazed at Will with a newfound intensity before glancing at the ring inside the box again, the corners of his lips quirking into a smile.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” said Gunnar, saving Will from the awkward silence. 

Will nodded. Maybe Gunnar had already guessed what was on his mind? 

But this was no time to make assumptions. And Will couldn’t keep avoiding what he wanted to say. This may be the last chance he could speak with Riley’s father before the final battle. This probably _was_ the last chance he could see Gunnar until after this whole mess was over and done with. And he couldn’t wait that long.

“I’minlovewithRiley,” Will blurted out, barely louder than a mumble. He swallowed hard, sat up straighter in his chair, and tried again, one hand pinching the other underneath the table to keep himself from speaking too fast. “I’m in love with Riley, Sir. And I can’t imagine a future without her.”

Silence. 

Will looked up. Gunnar’s expression was inscrutable. Will felt the thumping of his heart growing louder. He feared his heartbeat was loud enough for Riley’s father to hear, too.

“You’re in love with Riley?” Gunnar finally asked.

“I am. I’m in love with Riley.” Will uttered each syllable with the utmost precision, like he was etching the words into stone. “I’m in love with her. I want to propose. I’m here to ask for your blessing.”

“She seems happier,” said Gunnar. He reached across the table, and Will brought his hands up, too. His palms were sweating. Why did his hands have to be so sweaty?

Gunnar put his hand over Will’s, grazing the surface of his skin with calloused fingers from years of wear. Slowly, Gunnar turned his hand over. With his other hand, he laid the velvet box back in Will’s palm and closed it, securing the ring inside. He bent Will’s fingers to close around the box and drew his hands away.

“Happier?” Will asked in a shaky voice.

“When I saw her in Amsterdam, she looked happier. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. And I know now she was with you.”

“Oh. I -” Will didn’t know what he could say. He was happier, too. So much happier.

“You make Riley happy,” said Gunnar. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Will felt like he could breathe again, the tightening in his chest fading as his eyes widened and he broke into a full-faced grin.

Gunnar stood up, and Will did the same. The older man stuck out his hand. “I can’t make decisions for Riles. But I know my daughter. If she feels the same way, she’ll say yes. You have my blessing, Will.”

Will shook his hand, his grip firm, decisive. “Thank you, sir.”

“Gunnar is just fine, son.” Gunnar pulled him closer and gave him a hug, patting him on the back twice. 

They spent the rest of their time in Riley’s house in comfortable silence, except for the occasional questions from Gunnar about how long he would be expected to stay at the safe house and what he should pack. Will helped him bring the suitcase downstairs after he got a call on his burner from the driver the Veracity hackers had arranged.

When they parted at the airport — Will back to Paris, and Gunnar to the Oslo safe house — Gunnar stopped him before he could follow Nomi and the others to their gate, and pulled him into another hug. Two Veracity guards made their ways over to escort Gunnar to his flight.

“Keep her safe,” said Gunnar before he walked away.

“Always,” Will promised.

*

**July 28, 2017**

Around five in the afternoon, Detective Mun received a call in his office.

“Good day, Detective,” said the caller. She had a mature woman’s voice, calm and cutting-edge, the kind that made the hair stand up on his arm. She spoke in an impeccable London accent he’d heard too many times on English learning tapes growing up.

“Who is this?”

“Someone who has your best interest at heart,” she said. 

“It’s hard to believe you when you won’t even tell me your name.” He stretched in his seat and put his legs up on his desk. “People behind aliases always have something to hide. What’s your secret?”

“I’m not here to play games. I’m here to give you a warning.”

Detective Mun resisted the urge to scoff. He considered himself lucky he’d spent many days enriching his English vocabulary from detective movies that deviate, by a long shot, from the reality of his career. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“My intention is not to scare you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“My intention,” continued the woman, sounding — annoyed? bored? a little bit of both? he couldn’t decide yet, “is not to deliver a threat. I am calling to inform you about the detail regarding a certain case you’re working on.”

He laughed. He could’ve sworn he heard the woman sighing on the other end. “Is this about Sun Bak? Is this another one of these anonymous calls?”

A pause, before, “There’s been others?”

The Detective felt his heart drop for a second. But all the training he’d received in his early days working on the force had prepared him for spur-of-the moment lying. So, as cheekily as he could, he replied, “Oh yeah, _so many_. Conspiracy theorists talking about alien abductions, or foreign ministries taking her hostage… Wild stories, I tell you.”

“Indeed.” She sounded disappointed. And irritated. He could hear it now.

“So what is this warning you speak of?”

She cleared her throat. When she spoke again, the edge was back in her voice, devoid of all hints of emotions again. “I’m calling on the behalf of Sun Bak’s brother. I know you’re the officer responsible for putting him behind bars, but I assure you -”

“Ahh,” he interrupted, suppressing a snicker when he heard a curt intake of breath from the other end. The woman had obviously not expected him to be so nonchalant about this ordeal. “Another death threat? I’m starting to wonder how many people Mr Bak had under his command.”

“I assure you, Detective Mun, I am under no one’s command.”

“ _Really_. But you would take the time to call me and try to force me to release a potentially dangerous criminal back onto the streets? How come?”

“Sun Bak is involved in more illegal matters than you know, Detective. She is a danger to the world, and I hope you’ll find her and put her in her rightful place.”

“That might be a bit of a challenge.” He smirked, amused Miss Bak had caught the attention of someone from another continent. What kind of trouble could that woman have gotten herself into? “Seeing as we’re having trouble locating her whereabouts.”

“I believe my men can be of assistance to your search, if you would agree to my terms.”

“You want me to release Bak Joong-Ki, a shooter and potential embezzler, in exchange for more people on the watch to catch one possibly innocent woman?” the Detective asked slowly, trying to get the woman to hear how ridiculous her terms were.

“I have information on what other dealings Sun Bak is involved in.”

“If Miss Bak is involved in anything else outside the legal boundaries, I believe the Seoul Metropolitan Police is more than capable of finding out on our own.”

“Don’t get involved in matters you cannot comprehend, Detective. It’s in your best interest to reconsider my offer. Or you may find yourself in mortal danger.”

“Mortal danger, huh?” He chortled. “Maybe you missed the part where I said I work for the police. What kind of officer do you take me to be?”

“A sensible one,” she sounded impatient. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“I might not be the most sensible detective on the force, Miss, but I believe in justice.” He moved his legs down from the table and sat up straight. “And you know what the biggest injustice is right now?”

She said nothing.

“The biggest injustice is the fact that so many of you are willing to stand behind a shooter on a pending trial for _contract killing_ and demand his release, knowing it would put another person’s life in danger.”

“Oh, Detective,” she sounded amused. “More people’s lives are in danger than you believe. And Sun Bak will be responsible for their deaths, not her brother.”

“Unless I receive hard evidence of that allegation, I won’t consider your offer. Good day.”

He hung up before she could get another word in.

*

It was the first time Lila had seen Cal in white. His pale skin was accentuated by the stark white sheets, and the IV tube around his arm looked like a bulging vein. 

He looked exposed.

“Ya look like ya’ve seen a ghost, Lils,” mumbled the Scot, squinting. 

She snorted. “I know you’re alive. Or I wouldn’t be able to visit”

“Fair point.”

She walked forward and sat in the chair by his bed. 

He didn’t take his eyes off her, and she pulled up the collar of the makeshift blouse she wore — she’d had to leave her favorite pantsuit behind. The room was chilly at this time of night, and she buttoned up her blouse all the way. 

Usually she’d have left her clothes the way they were. She would’ve even been pleased if she’d caught someone sneaking a glance her way. But with someone who could see inside her mind, there was no need to keep up appearances.

“Ya only got ten minutes, eh?” he asked before she could speak.

“Jonas doesn’t want them to find us.”

“Us?” He frowned. “You’re with him?” 

“He’s useless on his own. He has me acting as his bodyguard.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t know where he’s taking me now.”

“Bloody bastard.” Cal seethed. 

He tried to curl his hand into a fist, but Lila grabbed him by the wrist and pushed his arm against the bed. She couldn’t help the smirk that snuck up the corners of her mouth. “I can handle the fighting, Cal.”

“Yeah, I’ve no doubt ‘bout that. Ya hold your own with a gun pretty damn well.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t help much with BPO.”

“Nah.” He grinned, a full grin with the gap in his mouth where a front tooth was missing. “‘M sure we’d be dead by now if ya hadn’t caught the German bloke.”

But they’d caught Veronika’s attention. And that had ruined everything.

It was Wolfgang. All his fault. Him and his cluster with their heroic complex. They tried to outsmart BPO, and now her cluster was doomed.

“I dunno, Lils,” said Cal. “Maybe we were doomed from the start. I know crafty blokes like them _sapiens_. Fought a couple myself.”

She chuckled. “I remember.” 

The first time they’d connected, he’d been in a fight one against three with people on the street in a back alley in Edinburgh. He’d gotten away before they could take his wallet. It’d costed him his front tooth and given him a black eye. 

She’d thought it was utterly foolish. Cal’s thoughts had confirmed he’d agreed, but he liked to pick fights because he was bloody bored. _Ain’t been fightin’ the street blokes like I used to,_ he’d told her. _Kinda missed bein’ king of the alley, I do._

The next time he’d picked a fight, Lila had helped him win. One of the thugs had brought an illegal firearm, and Lila’s calculated shot an inch above the thug’s head had sent the man scampering away like the coward he was. But when _sapiens_ ran the organization that held her cluster hostage, it was hard to seize the same amount of control. 

“Maybe we were,” she admitted. “That’s what Maitake said. They shouldn’t be trusted.”

They shouldn’t. But she’d insisted on the collaboration. 

“Hey, ain’t a better time to beat up some _sapien_ ass than now,” he tried to cheer her up.

“I can’t if I don’t even know where I’m going.” She put her face in her hands. There was no makeup to smudge.

“We were tryin’ to get ya back.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Jonas said he’d let me go after we find his friend a safe place. Don’t know if I’d take his word for it.” 

“Well, BPO’s got us sensates runnin’ like rats. I’d go into hiding if I were him.”

“You need a safe place, too.” She pointed out. “I wanted to visit the others. Are they all on Blockers?”

“Well -” he cringed - “most of ‘em. Lemarr’s a tad unconscious. Got hit worse than I did.”

She startled. “Un-unconscious?”

“Put up a bloody long fight, they did. Got a ninja in their midst or somethin’.”

“And the others?”

“They’re fine. Got the same idea you did. Been tryin’ to find a way to move us best they could with ‘Ronnie spyin on em — can’t have us stayin’ in this hospital for long, BPO’s gonna take us hostage.”

Hostages. Like two of her cluster had already become.

“They need to hurry,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. If Cal and Lemarr were taken too, it would’ve been on her. It had always been on her. But there was still a chance to turn things around. She’d managed it before. She could -

“Ya don’ have to work alone, Lils, you know.” 

“I know.”

She was never alone. Not anymore. It made her stronger, _and_ more vulnerable.

“You’ll find em, when Jonas lets ya go. I know ya will.”

She nodded. “Be careful, Cal. I don’t know if -”

If Veronika had ordered her two cluster-mates killed. Or worst.

No. She wouldn’t. It wasn’t too late. It wasn’t.

“Don’t ya worry your pretty head about me.” When he said it, it didn’t sound patronizing. He had no ill intentions. She chuckled. “‘M scrappy, see.” 

He shook his fist and showed her the scars overlapping, souvenirs from years of rumbling on the streets. “My best mate and I can kick ‘em Headhunters’ asses if they try ‘n take us. Buy ya some time.”

She noticed the Dr Who scarf carefully folded on the nightstand, the one he never went anywhere without even if it was too hot out. As a child he’d dreamed of the Doctor coming to his shabby run-down shelter to take him on his travels. Though Cal had grown out of believing the existence of the TARDIS, he’d never say no to adventure.

He’d stolen the scarf from some rich collector after he’d snuck into his house from an open window. _Ruddy bloke wasn’t a fan at all,_ he’d insisted. _Just wanted it ‘cos it costs more than my flat. It’s a disgrace, havin’ it on display jus’ for show._

“It _is_ a disgrace,” Lila echoes, remembering.

Everything — every _one_ — used for the sole purpose of catching eyes was distasteful. The mere thought made her sick. It was a past she’d never forget. One she vowed to never relive. 

At sixteen Lila had decided to channel the so-called beauty every family guest had feasted their eyes upon her whole life. She’d convinced Giovanni, with the newfound lure of her enticing body the elders had taken to discussing with no discretion, to invest his fortunes on her. Never mind her idiot brother. Her parents had given him all the family savings. They’d thought he’d be better suited to take over her father’s dealings.

Giovanni was an old family friend and collaborator, a gaudy, sickly man with a slyness in his beady eyes that made her recoil. But by the end of the night he’d fallen under her spell.

It was the first time she’d used her so-called beauty for her own agenda. And it was liberating.

Two years and two dozen mafia kings later, she’d left Naples with enough funds to start her own dealings. She’d left her parents and brother behind and moved to Berlin. To a new start. A life where she was in control. 

She’d grown from the little doll who sat in her family room with tailored rosy pink dresses for the guests to gaze upon. The girl no one listened to without trying to pick her up and pinch her cheeks. They’d admire her gowns and run their hands through her auburn tresses and say she’d grown prettier everyday. But they never cared about _her_.

Once she’d left that life behind, she’d never looked back.

Lila made a move to stand when she felt Jonas tap her shoulder, signaling time was up. 

“I won’t let BPO take you, or Lemarr,” she vowed before she left. “Veronika can go to hell.”

Never again was she going to let someone tie a leash around her neck. And now that extended to the rest of her cluster, too. It didn’t matter if that “someone” had dozens of Russian mobs at her beck and call, and an army of sensates, set out to eliminate her kind. She would fix this. 

She would.

*

“Don’t move.”

Kala barely had the chance to open her eyes before Wolfgang laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and settled her in place. She’d woken up and tried to stir, but he was, as expected, watching her every move.

She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of him gazing at her with the signature intensity in his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her. Some time during her painkiller-induced stupor she’d snuggled up with all the blankets. It was hard to tell how long she’d rested and how long she’d spent drifting between wakefulness and sleep. The doctor had given her narcotics to help with the pain. She could feel the effects wearing off. It was her last dose.

She made to inch closer to him and winced, unable to stop the hiss that escaped. It felt like a blade was still embedded in her flesh, tugging her sharply on the side whenever she moved.

“Careful,” he said, reaching for the hand she’d used to prop up her body. With his other hand behind her shoulder blade he settled her back in place lying down, their fingers intertwined. “Don’t pop a stitch.”

Wolfgang sounded worried. And angry. And scared. 

Kala smiled, trying to convince him she was fine. From what the doctor had told her as he’d stitched her up, her injury was more of a cut along the side than a stab wound. More stitches, less depth. Less chance for an infection. That was all she’d remembered, anyway. She’d busied herself by reciting the periodic table over and over in her mind to distract herself from the pain. Her cluster had been worried enough as they were.

“I suppose you’re right,” she gave in, her voice quiet. She felt tired, drained, like she’d been asleep for too long.

She settled for turning her head, craning her neck to look him in the eye, and squeezed his hand gently in reassurance.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” she mumbled. 

She felt chilly, her mind devoid of the usual voices in the back of her consciousness. Then she remembered she’d made eye contact with a woman in Lila’s cluster. They’d probably had to inject her with her own Blocker formula. 

She’d never expected to use the injection on herself. It was so painfully ironic, she nearly snorted. Her muscles around her midsection tensed with a dulled pain. The gauze scraped against her flesh and she resisted the urge to scratch, knowing the temporary relief would make things worse in terms of healing.

He reached out to touch her forehead and frowned. His hand was cold. The fever would be expected after such an ordeal, but it came at a terrible time. She’d come to a breakthrough with her new formula right before the confrontation with Lila’s cluster, one that could now be used in tranquilizer darts and fashioned as a new weapon. She wished she could get up, to go to the lab, to -

“I’ll get you something to eat.” he stood up and left without question. She felt her eyelids grow heavy again

The next time Kala woke, Wolfgang was sitting on their bed reading Genevieve’s copy of _Going Postal_ by the bedside. There was a tray with a covered bowl on the nightstand next to him. When he noticed her eyes were open, he tucked the bookmark on the page he was at and put it down by his other side.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long.” He fetched the tray and put it on his lap. “Got you food.”

She did her best approximation of a shrug under the covers. With a sigh, he lifted the lid and stirred the soup with a spoon. It smelled like tomatoes and sautéed vegetables and lentils, and she realized she _was_ kind of hungry. Hernando, or Gina, or whoever had cooked dinner had clearly outdone themselves.

“Help me up?”

He moved one arm behind the crook of her knees and one around her lower back and hoisted her up, fluffing the pillows against the headboard before he leaned her back. He pulled up the blanket and tucked the ends behind her shoulders.

“I can feed myself,” she suggested, half insistent.

He shook his head and lifted the spoon with the minestrone in front of her lips, and that was the end of the discussion. Every time she took another spoonful, his smile grew a little wider. She reach out and poked her finger on his dimple, making him chuckle.

When the food was finished, she opened her mouth to ask for a napkin, but was greeted by a full kiss on the lips instead, his tongue licking the remainder of the soup away. It made her laugh. “ _Wolfgang_ ,” she whined, trying and failing to sound annoyed.

He dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, his smile morphing into a Felix-esque shit-eating grin. “Something wrong?”

She sighed and shook her head, conceding with a smile of her own. It was statistically impossible to stay mad at him when he looked so smug, so pleased with himself. 

“Stay.” 

He moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder, both of them snuggled underneath the blanket now. “Anything for you, _schatz_.”

*

Across the living room, Will watched Amélie settle on Riley’s lap with a big yawn, chubby cheeks smushed into Riley’s chest like it was a pillow. Riley smiled and put a protective arm around the toddler’s back. She squirmed, but didn’t protest before closing her eyes. 

Every time Riley smiled, Will fell a little more in love.

The child had wormed her way into everyone’s hearts. But after her first night at the safe house, she’d grown particularly fond of Riley. And, despite the pain, Riley found herself drawn to the girl, aching every time she came near, but no longer escaping. 

The sight of Riley with the child made his heart skip a beat.

His hand moved to the velvet box in the front left pocket. He’d kept it there since the start of this evening. They’d volunteered to take the first guarding shift at midnight, a courage had him shoving the box into his pocket when she was out of their room. 

The child was still awake by the time most people had gone to bed, and Riley had volunteered to take over the job of lulling her to sleep. She’d sang the Icelandic lullaby Will sometimes found her humming in her sleep. It seemed to have done the trick.

He pulled down his shirt to cover his pocket. He walked over, keeping his footsteps as light as possible. “We should put her to bed,” he whispered.

Riley nodded and adjusted her hold on the child before standing up, glancing nervously ahead. They made their ways up the stairs one slow step at a time. Will led the way, taking great care not to make the floorboards creak. Amélie’s gentle continuous snores told them they had succeeded in their effort. He watched from the doorway as Riley kneeled beside the bed and set the child in, tucking her into the blanket. Instead of standing up, she watched the smile form on her chubby cheeks.

Her expression was hard to read, a mix of calm and apprehension. He didn’t know how long had passed before she finally stood up and tiptoed quietly towards the door, whispering _góða nótt_ before closing the door.

“I couldn’t reach Jonas or Lila, last time I came off Blockers,” Will reassured. He knew she was worried. “They’re both Blocked. And Nomi saw them on surveillance in Gatwick on their way to Chicago. We’re safe.”

“But for how long?”

“The flight on its own’s gonna take twelve hours. And then there’s the waiting in-between,” he reassured. “We should be fine for another day or two.”

Riley nodded, hesitation etched in her furrowing brows. 

“Besides, I think Lito’s fans convinced everyone we’re on the move.”

The memory of their cluster stumbling upon the fan encounter photo on Instagram this morning was one Will would remember for a long time. 

Back in Reykjavik, Lito and his family had walked into the café where Nomi and Amanita were sharing a drink and straight into a group of overly enthusiastic fans. They’d taken a dozen selfies with him and asked him to sign their foreheads. In the photo Lito looked dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected diehard fans in Iceland, of all places, and now, of all times. The photo was, as Kiira had dubbed, “a tangible evidence for their relocation”.

“Poor Lito,” said Riley. 

Will turned to walk down the stairs, and she followed, chuckling softly to herself. They reached the first floor. Instead of going back to the living room, Will walked into the kitchen. It’d give them more privacy for - 

Riley looked at him, puzzled.

“I-I just… I thought tea might help?” he said, trying not to blush. 

She seemed to have bought the suggestion, and fished around the cabinet for honey and chamomile. When the kettle finished brewing, they made the tea in identical blue mugs. As they sat waiting for the drink to cool off, they’d devised a plan: Riley would come off Blockers for the next day and try and make a connection with Lila. She’d look inside Lila’s mind to see if her memory of this place was detailed enough for her cluster to find them. Or if Jonas had divulged the location, because with Jonas, they could never tell. 

And if Lila was still in the dark, or convinced that they’d moved? They would be safe where they were. At least for a little longer. 

She spoke with the decisiveness he’d remembered from his time in Amsterdam and London, with a newfound confidence that came with being on the run, with accepting another chance at building a future. What amazed Will most was that everything Riley had been through didn’t make her bitter. Her gentleness never faltered. If anything, it grew, along with the bravery that showed itself at the most desperate times.

Riley put her hands around the mug, warming herself as she brought it against her lips and took a sip. The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Her happiness was contagious. Will imagined seeing this smile every morning after they’d start their new life together.

There was never a right moment. But with her, every moment was perfect.

“Riley.”

Riley turned.

She parted her lips to ask what was on his mind, but he set the mug aside and stood up. Confused, she did the same. He put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close. “I know it’s only been eighteen months since we first met. Well, eighteen _crazy_ months in -” he chuckled - “what, four different countries?”

She laughed, nodding.

“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You fit into my world in a way no one else could, and no one else will. The moment I saw you in the church, I understood what made me whole. _You_. You make me whole.” His voice caught in his throat. “When we were the run from Whispers, you kept me alive. You reminded me to _live_.”

He stopped talking and looked at her, letting the silence say what he couldn’t. She tilted her head and twitched her brows in a quizzical expression, one that made him smile every time.

“The days you were in Chicago was the most terrifying days of my life. I’d nearly lost you once.” Will broke off, trying to forget the terror he had felt when she was captured. “It scared me so much to know I might lose you again, this time without a way of getting you back. To know I might lose the chance at a life together. And I know I can’t imagine spending my life apart from you.”

Will kneeled reached for Riley’s left hand. With his free hand he pulled out the small velvet box and flicked it open. The fire opal shimmered in the dim kitchen, speckles of colorful dots dancing around the polished gem. 

Riley froze, gazing at the ring before meeting his eyes.

“Riley Gunnarsdóttir,” he said slowly, enunciating the syllables of her full name in the way Gunnar had taught him on their way to the airport. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment Riley didn’t speak. Her haunted eyes lingered on her finger where another ring used to reside. Did he ask too soon? It _was_ too soon. Riley needed time. How could he have presumed -

“Yes.” Her voice was shaking, barely audible. She swallowed, taking her gaze away from her hand. Their eyes locked. “Yes,” she said again, louder this time. She broke into a full-faced smile. “Yes.”

Moments after he put the ring on her finger and kissed her hand, they heard a squeal. 

The kitchen door burst open, exposing their ecstatic cluster and extended family in their overwhelming entirety. It was a sight to behold, one Will could never forget: Wolfgang was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, a tearful Kala on his lap. The rest of his cluster and company peeked behind each other’s shoulders to get a look through the small gap between the double doors to the kitchen. 

Capheus was jumping now, barely containing his excitement, though he kept his voice low in case he woke the children and the hosts.

“She said _yesssss_ ,” Amanita sing-songed, exchanging a kiss with Nomi.

Lito, on the other hand, turned to his family with a grin. “I told you!” he said. “I told you he was gonna do it today. I told you! I knew he wasn’t only in Iceland for -”

“Alright, Lito.” Dani patted him on the shoulder before sauntering into the kitchen. “No need to rub it in.”

Hernando followed in after her and went straight for the cabinet where they kept all their alcohol. “This calls for a celebration,” he said, keeping his tone matter-of-fact, nudging his glasses up his nose.

At that, Lito’s face lit up. He opened the fridge and started pulling out fruits, ingredients for the many drinks he was definitely going to need to mix. 

Riley laughed when she saw the giant tray full of limes. “When did we get so many?”

Lito planted a kiss on top of her head. “I knew what Will was gonna do.” He stepped away and ran his hands up and down Riley’s arms like a proud big brother before admiring her new ring with an approving nod. “So I asked Genevieve to pick these up.”

“How -” Will looked at everyone, bewildered - “how did you know? Why were you -” he looked at the kitchen door and back.

Wolfgang settled Kala into a seat and nodded at the clock displayed on the microwave. “Two o’ clock,” he said simply, patting Will on the shoulder. “Capheus’ shift.”

Sun smirked at him from across the counter, pouring herself some wine. “And mine.”

Will felt his face burn. He could imagine Capheus running up and down the stairs to rouse everyone for the big moment, but Sun? As if she could sense his thoughts, Blocker and all, she gave him a wink and passed him two champagne flutes. A whooping Felix strolled past and filled the glasses, a pounder in his other hand.

They made a toast to Will and Riley. _To love, to laughter, and countless years of happily ever after._

The cluster and extended family had been in more danger over the past month than they had for their entire lives. But that night time was frozen. All woes were forgotten until dawn crept up on them like a final score waiting to strike. They celebrated like this was a happy ending, not the calm before the storm.

They made a toast to their future, after the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
>  _Schatje_ \- a Dutch endearment which means “little treasure”.
> 
>  _Góðan dag_ \- the standard Icelandic greeting which means “good day”.
> 
>  _Góða nótt_ \- Icelandic for “good night”.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Shoutout to @greenmountaingirl for your help with the Will sections <3
> 
> I know last chapter left you all hanging, or screaming, or both, but I'm hoping you all forgive me now, hehe! 
> 
> One last thing I'd forgotten to mention for the last 3 chapters: life has become hectic for both me and my beta, so I've been going beta-less since chapter 21. Any mistakes you find are my own.


	24. The glue of every army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which unexpected things happen in Paris, and Riley learns Jonas’ secret.
> 
> “It's obedience, not resistance. That's the glue of every country, every army, every religion in the world.”  
> — From S1E4, “What's Going On?”

**July 29, 2017**

Lila had connected with Marcela for the first time during a hit on a rooftop. The assassin’s energy was stagnant, her heartbeat not a bit faster than normal, as she’d propped up her long ranger and aimed for the kill.

After spending years dealing with mafia men, Lila knew not to disturb the woman when she was on a job. She’d stood on the side and watched her pull the trigger, admiring the view of Mexico City from above. Moments later the bullet shot through an open window in the building on the opposite side, and an unassuming man had dropped dead.

Then Marcela had disassembled the gun like she’d done it a hundred times — she probably had, Lila could tell by her expert aim. She didn’t speak to Lila, but packed up and walked down the stairs. She slipped out from a door in the back, propped open by a sturdy metal hairpin, and boarded a subway train. Lila didn’t know if Marcela had even seen her.

But she didn’t know how to get herself back to Berlin. This connection was still all very new. Their Mother had spoken to them three days ago, and given them a preview on how their lives were going to look from there on out. She’d scrutinized everyone, not unkindly, just curious, but she’d done a double-take when she reached Marcela. 

Mother knew not to voice her thoughts to a new group of people who could feel what they were thinking, but Lila had suspected she was less than pleased with Marcela’s apparent indifference to her newfound powers. 

 _Well?_ asked the assassin when they finally reached her shop. _Are you going to say anything?_

The day before, Lila had connected with Cal. She’d felt the heat riling up from inside his mind, a roughened sort of rage. This time she frowned and tried to detect a trace of emotion from the Mexican woman, but felt nothing, save for an echo of her own curiosity reverberating between their minds. 

 _Is this what you do?_ Lila asked, impressed.

The woman rearranged the candles inside the display. She’d opened the shop as a front for her other dealings. This was the first time Lila saw someone use a candle shop as a front.

_I sell antiques, too._

Lila looked around. _How often do you do it?_

_As often as necessary._

_Do you get hired by the same people?_

_No. Everyone. I do what I’m paid to do._

The assassin took no sides. That idea sounded like a win-win. Certainly more profitable.

Marcela locked up the front of the shop and made her way to the back, climbing up the stairs to a humble one bedroom apartment. There were minimal decors in the room save for basic furnishing, and the small window showed a view of the back alley. Lila did a double-take. She thought someone with her income would splurge. Invest in a penthouse somewhere, perhaps.

_I don’t do it for wealth._

_What, then?_ Control? Revenge?

Marcela walked over to the kitchen and emptied a mug she’d left on the counter. _Social comparisons are as relevant to me as this old cup of coffee._

Lila couldn’t get her head around her blatant independence. _Then why do you do it?_

 _The world needs cleansing._ Marcela scrubbed the inside of the mug with a sponge, only stopping when it was spotless. _People like them will all be dead, sooner or later. Kill by the likes of their own._

_People like who?_

Marcela put the mug away and looked at her, unblinking. _You know who._

Of course. Lila rolled her eyes. The moment Sebastian walked over to her at _Luzia_ , she’d known he was more than just a sports sponsor. But he’d made conversation with her. He’d asked about her day, her job ( _model_ , she’d said, not untrue considering her last conquest liked to take photos of her). She wore a dress that hugged her curves, but he appeared to have made it no mind. If he did, he left no comments.

 _You thought he was different,_ Marcela observed.

He _was_. Different in that he’d deceived her into thinking he was a friend. But after a few months of drinking and chatting, he’d shown his true colors. Underneath the dim violet lights at a private club where she was invited as his plus one, he’d told her she was beautiful. Exquisite. Desirable.

He’d told her he wanted her, like how the other crime lords had wanted her. She’d felt like walking away. She knew she should have. But a habit she’d perfected over the years, she’d leaned in and pulled him by his collar for a kiss.

Lila seethed. _I thought wrong._

 _He’ll meet his end._ Marcela turned away, walking to the cabinet where she kept an aged bottle of scotch. _They all do._

*

After Lila and Jonas had found a hideout with Kareem in tow — a cramped basement somewhere in the less glamorous side of Chicago — Jonas had let Lila go back to her cluster as promised. Lila didn’t want to risk being off Blockers for more than a few minutes in case any of the August 8 cluster tried to see where she was, but she’d connected to Maitake as soon as the walls around her mind disappeared. 

He told her they were hiding out in Bordeaux. 

“Did Veronika send you out there?” she asked, frowning at the darkness around him. He’d hidden inside a cupboard, or a closet, somewhere cramped so no Headhunter would be able to tell where he was.

“We had Cal and Lemarr transferred somewhere secure,” he said. “Can’t stay under BPO’s watch after that. You know what they’ll do to us.”

She nodded, relieved they’d decided to remove themselves from the likes of Veronika.

Maitake had predicted a long time ago that the collaboration was a bad idea. Now that they connected again, Lila could hear him repeating the same thought. He didn’t do much to hide the bitterness. Maitake had never been one to try and hide anything.

“You were right,” she conceded before exchanging a nod with her cluster-mate. Together, they swallowed a black capsule and washed it down, the buzzing all too familiar as they kicked into place.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply given in, but now that she was on a flight to Berlin two hours away from landing, still searching for a way to travel without being traced, pride was hardly a priority.

Jonas had managed to procure a fake passport for her from one of his contacts. How, she didn’t care to ask. But the document said she was eighteen, and she’d had to disguise herself to look the part. She cringed at the floral dress she’d picked up from a thrift store. Her auburn curls cascaded down her back, tickling the sides of her face. She hadn’t let her hair down like this since — she couldn’t remember how long.

Maitake had given Lila their address four hours later when their Blocker wore off again. A few hours and two bumpy shuttle rides later, she knocked on the front door in the rhythm of the opening score from Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, sneaking furtive glances around to make sure she wasn’t spotted. The indigo skies faded into a warm yellow, the first sign of daybreak. The air was still chilly, and there wasn’t a person in sight around the impoverished neighborhood full of rundown, abandoned bungalows.

The door opened a slit, before it closed again. She heard someone sliding the chain off the lock. Then it opened again, and a strong arm yanked her in by the hand before she could say anything. She heard the door slam shut, the chain sliding back in place.

“I wasn’t spotted, Maitake.” She said in English and yanked her arm away. She looked into his eyes, gritting her teeth. “I was careful.”

He scoffed and led her down the narrow hallway into the unkempt kitchen. “Careful? This is what you mean by careful?”

“I didn’t let them see anything. I kept my mind in check.”

He turned abruptly before they reached the kitchen counter. She almost rammed into him. “Your rash decisions had nearly gotten us killed, Lila.” His voice was a low growl.

She crossed her arms. “I’m here now. By all means, keep an eye on me.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Marcela walked past them into the assembly of moth-eaten couches they called a living room. “Ragnar’s out getting food,” she explained when Lila craned her neck to see if her remaining cluster-mate was around.

Maitake looked like he was going to chastise her some more, but Marcela gave him a look, a steady unblinking glare, and he held his tongue. They settled into couches and didn’t say anything else for a few seconds. After spending days in isolation save for the occasional interrogator, her cluster’s presence in the room was overwhelming.

“Jonas drugged me before he got me out. I couldn’t see anything.”

Marcela tutted her tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Finding them again won’t do us any good.”

At that, the assassin and Maitake exchanged another look. Lila frowned and looked between the two. “What did you do?”

Maitake cleared his throat. “How much do you know?”

“I know you tried to negotiate a trade-off for me. And Veronika wanted me back, fuck knows why.” She looked at him. “ _Should_ I know anything else?”

“I had to hurt someone to get away,” Marcela explained. At Lila’s quirked eyebrow, she added, “An Indian woman. I didn’t kill her.”

Of course it was her. Lila’s life seemed to be driven by unfortunate coincidences these days.

“Wolfgang’s not going to negotiate now,” Lila pointed out.

“Not like he ever had,” said the assassin, “but he might not have a choice. I’ve encountered my share of vigilantes. No raid can go exactly according to plan.”

With that said Marcela made her way back to the kitchen and put the kettle on, pouring ground coffee into a secondhand mug. Lila made to join her, but Maitake grabbed her by the shoulder, stopping her in place with a tight grip. She rolled her eyes and glared at his hand: calloused fingers with thick silver bands, veins bulging. There was a tattoo of a ceremonial sword on the inside of his wrist, the tip pointing towards the crook of his elbow.

She remembered the time he got the tattoo. It was the second time they’d connected, and she’d woken in the middle of the night to the pain of needles pricking her skin. She knew he owned a tattoo parlor in Nakazakicho, but it was the first time she saw him inject the ink into his own skin.

 _Why not ask someone else to do it?_ she asked, gritting her teeth. She wasn’t particularly sensitive, but every time the needle hit too close to the bone, there was an uncomfortable vibration that made the hair stand up on her arms.

 _The pain is contained when I’m the one executing,_ he said, eyes fixed on the needles shooting out and retracting back in from the buzzing rotary machine. The ink sunk into his skin as he slowly made his way down his wrist, forming his design with a practiced hand. His other hand was clutched into a fist, steady and unmoving on the counter.

A fair point, she supposed. He’d probably grown used to the pain by now.

 _You don’t trust someone else to get it right,_ she said, reading his thoughts.

 _Exactly._ He laid the syringe-like machine aside and looked at her. _Everyone has their own way of going about their business. Never the same as each other’s. So I rely on myself. No one else._

She frowned. _Does it get lonely?_

 _You work your way up by depending on lesser men’s mistakes,_ he said. _Isn’t that lonelier?_

At that, Lila had scoffed and felt her consciousness reenter her own body. but once the connection had ended, she couldn’t help admitting Maitake might be onto something. She didn’t even know what she’d do with the power once she’d gotten hold of the wealth from all the mafia kings in Berlin. All she knew was she wanted it.

Not everyone was after power. Before her rebirth, she’d have found this a ridiculous notion. But being a sensate meant she could get a clearer sense of their perspectives, unclouded by her own judgements. That night, after her talk with Maitake, she’d crawled into bed with Sebastian and wondered she might grow tired of her life one day.

“Let it go, Maitake.” Marcela’s voice from the kitchen brought Lila’s thoughts back to the present. “What’s done is done. And this isn’t over for us.”

With a glare, Maitake let go of her shoulder. Their eyes bore into each other’s with a hardened gaze, neither of them relenting. Eventually he shook his head.

“At least you made it back. That’s one less thing to concern ourselves with.”

*

_“In light of the recent attacks around the world, geneticists have determined the cause of the brain mutation to be a malevolent virus released as an act of biological warfare. Anti-governmental organizations around the world have joined forces and unleashed chemicals, which triggered the epigenetic mutation of the frontal lobe, resulting in hallucinatory symptoms in those infected…”_

“Why are they doing this?” Capheus muttered to no one in particular. It was getting harder and harder to keep up with the news when everything seemed to be going wrong.

“Nomi’s right about the stigmatization,” said Kiira, who sat beside him. He saw his sister staring at the screen, frowning at the brain scans the reporter was showing. “They’re abusing the knowledge of neuroscience to spread rumors. It’s absolutely vile.”

_“The infected may be prone to violent destructive behavior, which brings danger to their communities. We urge our viewers to bring the infected to a nearby hospital, to receive treatment before the damage to their brains become permanent…”_

Capheus sighed. “They’re declaring war?”

“I think so.” The reporter moved on to the next headline, and Kiira turned the TV off. “Veronika’s hint to us, most likely. A call for surrender.”

“Nothing good will come if we surrender now.”

“No. They just want us to feel responsible for all the new sensates they’ve recruited — Nomi’s been keeping track of the hospital records. She said people were dying, people sent in for neurological diseases.”

“Dying?” Capheus was surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. It sounded so unlike him. Kiira, on the other hand, merely nodded. “When was this?”

“She told me this morning, during our shift. Her friend Bug called from California.”

Nomi had gone back to bed when her shift had finished, but Capheus had woken up by dawn and couldn’t fall back asleep. He knew something was off. The last time he’d been on  such high alert, the gang leader of Superpower had come to his house and marched him out with a gun pointed to his head. 

But this time the threat to his existence had extended to the rest of his cluster. The rest of his kind. There was no way his cluster and allies could plan the next step without additional information, but he felt like a sitting duck, waiting for news about Veronika and the other _sapiens_ to travel back here from the Archipelago.

“I wish we could do more,” he said. 

“From what Mavis told me, your cluster’s contributed quite a lot to the cause.”

That made Capheus smile. “I do have powerful friends.”

“Hey.” Kiira turned to face him, crossing her legs. “You’re underestimating yourself. You’ve done a lot for your cluster, too. Or I expect half of them would’ve lost hope by now.”

“I wish I could do something _now_ , Kiira. There must be something -”

“We _are_. Remember our plan?”

Capheus sighed. He still hadn’t entirely approved of what Kiira and Mavis was planning to do later today, but everyone agreed it was necessary. And Sun, sensing his worry, had volunteered as their escort.

“ _I’m_ not doing anything,” he amended.

“You’re waiting. Patience is a necessary evil for what we’re about to do,” said Kiira. “I suppose we could raid a hospital and kidnap a dozen confused newborn sensates who were sent in, but that doesn’t mean we should. It’ll make things worse.”

Speaking like a true voice of reason. Like Nomi, or Will, or Kala… Well, _everyone_ , in one way or another. She had so much in common with his cluster. There wasn’t enough time in the world to catch up on everything he’d missed from their lives spent apart. “Seems like you’ve done a lot of waiting too, huh?”

“You could say.”

“For your degree?”

“Yes. But not just that. I’m always waiting for something, I suppose. Nothing’s set in stone in my future, assuming we do survive this ordeal with BPO and get our lives back, -” he startled, and she amended - “which I’m sure we will. What I mean is, I’ve got plenty of time to figure things out.”

When Kiira spoke of uncertainties, of the unpredictability of life and the importance of seizing every moment, she sounded so much like their father it hurt. If father were alive today he’d have been proud. Capheus was. He knew their mother was, too.

“You do have time,” he agreed. “At least eight more years than me.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled. She suppressed a giggle. “Right. I have all the time you have, plus eight more years. That _is_ a lot.”

“Maybe you can collaborate with Mr Hoy and the other scientists. Oh! With Kala!”

Kiira tilted her head, brows furrowed in thought. “Kala did tell me she’s planning to continue Angelica’s research. Finding new ways to establish connections with sensates outside the cluster, and all that. Studying the sensate brain would be a good area of study.”

“Exactly. You’ll be the first sensate brain doctor. A revolutionary.”

“Like you?”

 _And our father._ “If I win the election.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a prerequisite for being revolutionary. Not in your case, at least.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve seen your speech on YouTube, Capheus. People listen to you because you know them, and you care. It’s not something anyone would forget, even if you did lose — and if you lose it’ll have to be a corrupt interference from Mandiba’s end.”

“You sound like Zakia.”

“Your girlfriend? The one from the photo you showed me?”

He smiled in defeat. “Good deduction, Holmes.”

“What’s she like?”

“Hmm.” He leaned back against the couch and looked at the ceiling. “She’s a journalist. A voice for the people. She inspired me to run for office.”

“Sounds like a good influence.”

If they weren’t cooped up in a safe house, isolated from the rest of the world, Capheus was sure Kiira would ask to meet this Zakia and evaluate how good of a match she was. For a moment they felt like siblings, giving each other the latest details of their love lives. Their sensacity made memory-sharing much easier the first time, but their shared predicament under this roof brought them closer in a different way.

“She is a good influence,” he confirmed. “You should meet her one day. You’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“I should. I’d like to. I know the rest of my summer’s free. I mean, my internship didn’t exactly work out.”

Another reason to keep fighting. He wasn’t going to let BPO take his sister. Not after he’d just got her back. 

She tilted her chin and gave him a nod of approval. “I suppose you’ll want to meet my parents too? And Liam?”

“Of course.” He frowned at her in mock scrutiny. “No one else I should know about?”

“ _Several_ , actually.” 

He opened his mouth, but he’d forgotten what it was he was going to say.

“Not at the moment!” she added. 

He let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Though I’ve had my share of flings.”

“ _When_?”

And there was that protective older sibling instinct. Nomi and Kala had warned him about this after his first talk with Kiira since she’d recovered from the extreme jet lag and sleep deprivation. Capheus had insisted he wasn’t going to get hung up over who his sister may be dating. She _was_ an adult, after all. His cluster-mates remained unconvinced.

“My first happened here in Paris when I was fifteen.”

“You’ve been here before?”

She nodded. “Student exchange program. I learned quite a bit.”

“You speak French?”

“ _Oui, monsieur._ ”

He found himself in awe for more times that day than he could count. As if Kiira’s knowledge hadn’t impressed him enough. But wait -

“Your first date.” He scooted closer. “What was their name?”

“ _Her_ name is Janelle.”

She was watching his reaction, he could tell. He gave her a reassuring smile before he went back to scrutinizing everything Kiira said about her love life in a typical big brotherly fashion. Between sharing his mind with Nomi and Lito, and dating Zakia, he’d learned more about love in the past year than he had for the first nearly twenty-seven years of his life.

Love is love. And he was happy for Kiira. But she was too young to be dating. She was.

“We broke off on friendly terms.”

“Friendly terms?”

As soon as he’d asked, he could _hear_ Nomi and Kala giggling in his head. Never mind the fact that they were both asleep. Oh dear. They’d never let him hear the end of this.

“We stayed friends, is what I meant.” His overreaction made her laugh. “You’re starting to sound like Liam.”

Maybe Liam had a point.

“Come visit, when you can get out of your political duties. You and he would get on well.”

“I’d like that.”

He’d all but given up on the idea of finding his sister. But like all things in his life, something good came out of a struggle. Something unexpected.

*

“Remind me why you’re going to a farmers market again?”

Mavis turned around from the mirror, where she was adjusting her wig, a brown bob. She looked at Will like he’d asked her what was for dinner for the third time in a row. “Well, for starters, we got all these extra Blockers we can’t finish and they’re blue and they’re coded safe, and the Archipelago needs supplies. And we’re meeting one of my old Veracity contacts. For the information _you_ risked your life to get.”

Will sighed. “Are you sure you won’t be spotted?”

“Oh don’t worry, Will,” Kiira came out of the bathroom and joined Mavis at the mirror, adjusting her faux ashy blonde locks. She pulled out a tube of pale pink lip gloss from Mavis’ purse, and her cluster-mate gave her a nod of approval. “We have security — Sun agreed to come with us. _And_ we’ll take the long way home. Three train transfers. Would anyone follow us for twenty stops inside a stuffy train?”

Capheus spoke up from across the room, where he was packing the bottles of Blockers into two bags they were passing on to Mavis’ contact. “Headhunters would,” he mumbled. Reluctantly he looked at the younger women at the mirror, who were now helping each other with their eye makeup.

Kiira’s expression softened, but she didn’t change her mind about going. She gave Capheus a reassuring nod when he handed over the bags. She slung one over her shoulder and passed the other to Mavis, who groaned in a dramatic way that rivaled Lito’s antics, making Kiira snort. “Why do these have to be _gray_?”

Will looked incredulous. “What’s wrong with gray?”

Sun walked down the stairs, sporting a black crop top and denim shorts. “Doesn’t go with their dresses,” she said matter-of-factly, gesturing to Mavis and Kiira. 

And it certainly didn’t. They had spent the past hour contouring their faces to make themselves unrecognizable, decking their eyelids with glitter. Kala had lent them some of her things to wear. Totally not their styles.

 _We could be anyone_. Mavis smirked into the mirror and added a final dash of crimson to her lips. She’d never felt the need to wear makeup until she started training. Over the past two years, though, she’d become kind of an expert.

Then again, being undercover would do that to people. It was all kinds of cool and exhilarating to pretend she was someone else, but she’d stayed in BPO for a long time. Sometimes she’d find herself wondering if she really felt like a pretentious do-gooder in a lab coat, sauntering around the halls, passing forth data and equipments to the higher-ups.

Sometimes she’d look back at the carefree teenager she used to be, and all she could see was a stranger. Right now she was a stranger too. But a fabulous stranger in a borrowed dress she wanted to keep. And a mismatched bag full of blue pills that didn’t look suspicious. At all.

Kiira laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, forcing her gaze away from the mirror. A tilt of her head told Mavis the other woman knew exactly what was on her mind. Kiira shook her head.

That made Mavis smile. She’d missed this silent communication. And as life-threatening as their current predicament with BPO may be, she was relieved to get it back, at least for a little while, if they find themselves split up again in the future for reasons.

Another pair of feet pattered down the steps, and Miki appeared, sans makeup, dressed like she’d just put on the first thing hanging off the back of her chair. Their host had the fortune of being able to go out without wearing disguises, and she’d insisted on coming along. Will and Capheus had agreed before either women could say anything in protest.

“I need to stock up my supply,” said Miki, ushering everyone up the stairs. “Some of my salves are running low.”

Henrik met them on the top of the stairs, fully dressed. 

“Lemme guess.” Mavis examined the Dutch, prodding at the grocery bags he held in his hands. “You’re gonna play security too?”

Sun shot him a glare. He scratched behind his head, making his hair into an even bigger tousled mess. “We do need groceries,” he said. A feeble attempt, they all knew. 

“You’re _recovering_.” Sun crossed her arms. “What would Gina say?”

“Fresh air is good for recovery,” he responded, already opening the front door. They were greeted by a wave of midday heat. Only Henrik looked happy to see it wasn’t cloudy. 

“God, we spent too much time in the basement,” said Mavis, shielding the sunlight from her eyes. “All this effort with the eye makeup. If I’d known it was so freaking sunny I’d have made us wear sunglasses.”

*

The Veracity contact, Topher, was to meet Kiira and Mavis behind a booth that sold mini-terrariums. He’d chosen the spot a day before, and Veracity hackers had relayed the memo to Nomi’s email. The terrariums on sale were made by an award-winning craftswoman. Her work had become something like a brand for connoisseurs of hipster flea markets.

People crowded around the displays and _ooh_ -ed and _ahh_ -ed at the intricate pieces fastened on dainty chains. The terrarium necklaces would have made great accessories if they weren’t encased in glass pendants, easily shattered. But against all logic Mavis found herself drawn to the them. She entertained the idea of owning something just for the sake of looking pretty, something with absolutely no use in an emergency. Perhaps when their current emergency was over and done with, she could come back and get one without worrying about her backpack running out of space.

“A good choice for location,” Kiira mumbled beside Mavis, sticking close. They swerved around the gathering crowds of women donning the most colorful of dresses, careful not to step on anyone’s toes. “Certainly takes the attention away from our flamboyant fashion.”

Topher greeted Mavis with their secret handshake, his golden-brown skin glowing underneath the sweltering sun, a line of sweat forming at the edge of the baseball cap he wore. The handshake wasn’t created _just_ for fun, although coming up with over-the-top gestures was entertaining. “Alright,” he said. “I can verify it’s you, Mavis. And could this be -” he admired Mavis’ company. “Miss Kiira Anderson! In the flesh!”

Kiira nodded in polite greeting. “We brought what you asked,” she said, trying to keep it subtle. She withdrew the folded piece of paper Will and the others had snatched from Lila’s cluster-mates and passed it to Topher. 

He glanced furtively around to make sure no one was staring before he unfolded the paper and scanned across the list, lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “We do have people at most of these locations. Three out of the four.” He pointed at the addresses of Veronika’s hideouts. Her homes. Technically. Would the woman ever let herself get so attached? “I’ll send word to the others, see if anyone spots her around any of these.”

“Thanks, Topher.” Mavis looked around before taking the list back. Their hosts, who were shopping at a nearby booth that sold homemade honey, winked at her. No one else noticed. “You’ll let us know?”

“I’m sure word will get ‘round. Shouldn’t take too long. Few days, maybe?”

“And the names,” Kiira added. “Any chance we can get anything on them?”

Topher inched closer and whispered, “ _Sapiens_?”

Mavis nodded. “Higher-ups. Could come in handy for what we need to do.”

He bowed, a theatrical bow. “At your service, My Ladies.”

They passed the bags Blockers to Topher. Mavis reached into her purse and pulled out an extra bottle. When they hugged, she shoved it into the pocket of Topher’s hoodie.

“For you. I know how rare they are these days.”

He beamed, taking a quick peek. “Blue now, is it?”

“Blue’s the new code for _safe_ ,” Mavis and Kiira said at the same time.

“Good precaution. Take care, both of you.” 

He gave both women pats on the back before he picked up the bags and looked for a way to leave. They were in an area in-between the backs of two rows of booths, like an open-sky tunnel with many exits. After waving goodbye, they walked away in opposite directions. Mavis and Kiira counted five booths they squeezed their ways out between a crêpe booth and one that sold homemade lemonades mixed with other fruits, from the good old raspberry and strawberry to fruits Mavis couldn’t even name. Fancy.

As predicted, Miki was sampling all the flavors to her sweet tooth’s content, her grin growing wider with each one.

A crowd had formed around the lemonade booth. Mavis and Kiira squeezed their ways through to collect Miki after she’d gone through the whole selection with the mini sample cups. They agreed to come back to this booth when there was less of a crowd, and followed Henrik and Sun down the road to buy groceries.

Haggling in a market in the middle of Paris was taxing when one didn’t speak French. Normally Mavis would have tricked the merchants into thinking she wasn’t interested, and tried to get them to lower the starting price before arguing her way down from there. Lucky for her, Kiira had taken over the responsibility for most of the talking, bickering back and forth with the man who was trying to sell them organic home grown tomatoes for twice the price they’d pay at a grocery store.

Mavis knew Kiira had stayed in Paris before. She’d had more than her fair share of French culture embedded in all their cluster-mates’ memories along with happy moments from her first romance. And now, dangers and all, Mavis knew Kiira was excited to be back.

At two o’clock, when the temperature had raised to an unholy degree, the sun baking their skin with its unforgiving heat, the five of them headed to the subway station at the end of the street. They never did make it back to the fancy lemonade booth, but instead found a gelato booth that more than fulfilled their cravings. 

When they turned the corner, just before they reached the subway stop down the road, Miki froze. She stood there like she’d been petrified by some supernatural force. Her pupils dilated, and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Mavis, Kiira and Sun stared at her and at each other before laying a hand on the Inuk’s shoulder to try and rouse her.

Miki didn’t budge.

Henrik made eye contact with her. After a moment, he gasped and grabbed the immobile Miki by the arm to pull her away from the trance. She followed along and shuffled her feet like someone else was in command of her body, before she’d jerked her arm away and passed out against the wall of the building they were standing by.

“What’s happening?” Kiira yelled over everyone else’s screams.

“It’s the -” Henrik, who was off Blockers, looked around, eyes wide in terror - “someone was trying to see inside Miki’s head! I saw her memories shuffling and -”

“Oh shit!” Mavis ran back to the market, in the midst of the chaos that ensued. Henrik settled Miki into the narrow gap between two buildings, mostly out of view, and everyone followed the ex-spy, baffled. “No, no, no!” 

“What?” asked Sun.

The ex-spy stopped abruptly and turned around to face her allies. “It’s the Reciphorum. The _Reciphorum_. It must’ve -” she swerved her head around, back and forth between the booths - “the lemonade!”

Mavis pointed at the booth they’d passed by right after the trade-off with Topher. The rest of them turned to look in the direction she was pointing as two men dressed in bulletproof vests and some kind of uniform was pulling an unconscious woman away on a stretcher. Without the need to say anything else, Sun lunged forward and took the two BPO guards down with a few punches.

Mavis grabbed Kiira’s hand and instructed her to duck her head low. They squeezed through the fleeing crowd of confused _sapiens_ , looking for signs of any unconscious people the BPO guards hadn’t spotted. They saw a middle-aged woman lying against a fruit booth. 

“Hide her under?” Kiira suggested. She lifted the opaque white table cloth at the front of the booth, revealing an empty space between the legs of the table.

“Good plan.” 

The woman was heavier than she looked, so they laid her flat and rolled. They hid her under the cover and hoped there wouldn’t be a stampede. So long as the conscious fled instead of lingered about in a panicked frenzy, she should be safe.

A turn of her head told Mavis Henrik was locked in hand-to-hand with a butch guard who was swinging a baton a few paces away. Henrik crossed his arms and blocked the force of the first hit. The frustrated man decided to kick him on the shin, hard.

Before the guard could go for another sing, this time aiming for Henrik’s head, he was tackled to the side by a woman in ballet flats and a black romper. She clearly hadn’t come prepared for battle, but the way she navigated herself told Mavis she was a trained professional. The woman threw the guard down. Two more guards came over to assist their fallen colleague. Mavis had seen the same moves from some of her contacts back in training, those who were looking to BPO’s infiltrate security instead of offices. Which meant -

The heroine-in-black-romper turned around and gave Mavis and Kiira a wink after all three men had been knocked unconscious. “Mavis and Kiira, is it?” 

Before they could respond, María was already down the road three booths away, where two more men in uniforms were dragging an unconscious man onto a stretcher. 

“Oh no you don’t!” she hollered.

María could clearly hold her own, so after Mavis and Kiira shook themselves free from their daze, they set out on their scouting mission once more. They elbowed through the crowd, which was both fortunately and unfortunately thinning, and located another unconscious man outside the BPO guards’ notice.

He was even harder to move. Thankfully, Henrik seemed to have seen them in the crowd and followed along. Together they managed to hide him under the table in another booth.

Now the coast was clear, and Henrik ran off down the street. He dashed back two minutes later and confirmed Miki hadn’t been taken away. Luckily BPO guard had checked there for potential sensates.

Mavis allowed herself a brief moment to wonder what the _sapiens_ who fled this scene would make of this whole ordeal. All they would be able to say was… The popular lemonade had apparently been spiked with something, and there were uniformed guards who mysteriously appeared on the scene and tried to take the people who’d fainted to a hospital. ( _A hospital. Of course_ they’d _think that._ ) Then some people had tried to attack the guards.

Yeah. They wouldn’t have been able to make sense out of it.

The five of them and María, would be the bad guys according to the _sapiens_ ’ side of the story. At least she and Kiira wouldn’t be recognizable with all their disguises. And with the BPO guards down — twelve, Mavis counted, taking a moment to admire Sun and María’s quick skills in combat — they had to move quick. Who knew how long the Reciphorum was gonna hold?

More people arrived at the scene, casually-dressed folks holding bags filled with syringes. They handed some to María before turning to Mavis and Kiira. Sun, and Henrik, who was carrying Miki, walked over.

“These will knock them out. The unconscious sensates, I mean,” one of the agents instructed. “They’re injectable Blockers. Gotta thank your ally for that.”

They got to work. Mavis and Kiira injected the two sensates they’d hidden. Henrik had apparently hidden another. And then there were the two sensates María and Sun rescued from the BPO guards.

Not too shabby for six against twelve.

A couple vans arrived at the scene to take the unconscious sensates away. María and her fellow agents hauled the unconscious sensates inside. They put Miki into the last van, then María climbed in after. She beckoned Mavis and the others to join in.

“Guess we’ll give you a ride home,” she said.

“Too risky,” Mavis replied. Kiira nodded emphatically in agreement, still catching her breath. “She be awake in a bit.” She looked at Miki, who was stirring fitfully in the back seat. “And she’s on Blockers now. When she’s awake we’ll go the rest of the way by subway. Just drive us to a random station.”

María smirked. “Speaking like a true spy.”

That made Mavis beam. She felt like she was back in training, kicking ass. 

“How’d you get here so quick?” asked Henrik.

“Some spies in the London facility got wind of the plan in Paris. They didn’t know what, exactly, but we assumed it was some kind of attack. So I came a few hours ago to scout the area. I didn’t expect it to be the… What do you call them?”

“The Reciphorum,” Kiira supplied. She told Mavis she’d spent the last few days reading up on all their allies’ current knowledge about BPO’s operations to bring herself up to speed.

“Reciphorum,” María said the word slowly, trying to commit it to memory. “We thought it was another lobotomized soldier attack.”

“Either way, you saved us,” said Mavis. “Like, big time.”

María shrugged like it was no big deal. Then they heard a phone ringing, and the driver of the van handed María a burner. She answered and set it on loud speaker.

“We lost three,” said a gruff voice from the other end.

“ _Three_?” María froze. “We were - we saved five sensates, a-and Miki, I thought -”

“Yes, three,” the called cut in. “We’re tracking the BPO vans. Seems they’re transporting the people to a nearby facility — probably London?”

“ _Dios mío_.” María put her face in her hands.

“You did good,” reassured the voice. “We just have to keep an eye on things from our end. Make sure the three taken don’t get turned into soldiers.”

They’d set out today, thinking dealing with a Veracity contact in the middle of Paris was the most risky thing they’d do. But instead they found themselves in the middle of a BPO-orchestrated raid. They looked at Miki in total silence. The Inuk mumbled something on the verge of waking up. After everything Mavis had seen, everything she’d lost, she still found it unbelievable that they’d almost lost a friend. 

*

For the third time that day, Riley tried to reach out to Lila, calling forth the riling bitterness that would draw the Neapolitan’s mind to hers. It was crucial that they found out how much Lila knew, and Riley could fortunately afford to come off Blockers now and then. The first two times she’d tried to establish a connection, there was a solid wall between the space in the Psycellium that separated her mind from Lila’s, one she couldn’t shatter without launching her consciousness back into her bedroom in Paris. 

But this time she crossed the barrier with no resistance.

This time Lila was waiting for her inside what looked like a closet. Riley didn’t make an effort to get out and see where Lila was. Right now finding the other cluster was far from their main concern. 

“Did you hear what happened in Paris?”

Riley frowned. What was Lila playing at? Was she stalling?

The other woman shrugged. “I’m not trying to guess where you are, Riley Blue. Finding you again would be suicide.”

“It would.” Riley was surprised to hear the decisiveness in her voice.

“So why are you here?”

What would Lito say? “I believe wasn’t finished with your interrogation.”

“Hasn’t there been enough attempts? You tried, Gorski tried, too. Multiple times. Tell me, what is it you’re so desperate to find?”

“Don’t know yet.” Riley tried to sound nonchalant, keeping her voice steady. “But whatever you’re hiding has to do with Jonas.”

At that, Riley felt a jolt of something hot, the sensation of a heated needle pricking the surface of her skin. It stayed for a moment — not enough to cause pain, but the irritation lingered beneath her skin like a spider waiting to crawl. Riley had realized over the past year that the mind didn’t always represent memories in full flashbacks; sometimes they were stored as impressions, swarming around the consciousness until they were called forth.

She turned and looked at Lila. The woman kept her expression guarded, lips pursed, eyes staring straight ahead without blinking. _Too_ guarded. Riley used to do the same every night after her show had ended, whenever the demons of her past came swarming back.

“Not a fan of Jonas, I take it?” Riley asked, curious. 

Riley felt a needle jabbing at the side of her neck and cringed. She slapped her hand over the place where the injection was, but felt nothing. Immediately she recognized it as a memory: a vivid one from not long ago.

_Warm liquid tingling in her veins. Vision going out of focus, off-white walls, stairs and hand grabbing at railings. A firm hand at her shoulder guiding her out of place, through a door, past — dark green, bushes, stone-paved paths — a garden? Stumbling for a few minutes before coming over to an empty space. Kind of empty. Some cars. A parking lot? The street lights were dim, blurry yellow blobs hovering above._

Riley let out a breath she’d been holding since she made contact with Lila. Her vision was tampered with. She couldn’t have known where they were hiding. The general details, perhaps. A house with an off-white wall. Somewhere with a garden and a parking lot nearby. Not too much to go off of. 

Now all that was left to do was to discover why Jonas did what he did. She couldn’t understand why Lila was mad at someone who had helped her escape. He’d sacrificed the safety of staying somewhere secure. She thought Lila would be grateful. 

 _Grateful_. Riley projected the question forward, her ticked eyebrow mirroring her intrigue.

Lila scoffed. “He only gave us what he owed.”

She’d fallen for the bait. Riley smoothed over the jolt of her victorious satisfaction in her mind with memories of the melodies her fathers used to play, focusing on the rhythm and the pitch. She could tell Lila was frustrated she’d buried her thought before the other woman could detect her intentions.

“Us?” asked Riley.

Lila swallowed. “ _Me_ ,” she corrected. Her finger twitched, and she blinked twice in rapid succession. The movements wouldn’t have been noticeable if Riley weren’t looking for these signs, courtesy of Lito’s crash courses on lie detection.

“You know Jonas.” Riley let herself sound smug, now that she’d gotten what she needed. She looked into Lila’s eyes and urged herself not to jerk away when the woman glared back. “You knew him before we captured you. And he’s related to your cluster in some way.”

Lila tried to shrug it off. “His reputation precedes him.”

“You knew him personally.” It was the only way the memory of someone could be buried in so deep, in the form of an unpleasant sensation. Like the ice shards scattered around the periphery of Will’s mind that reminded him of Whispers.

Riley heard the sound of footsteps approaching the vicinity of her own mind inside the Psycellium, the telltale sign of Lila trying to break in. Jonas’ name echoed around the barrier of her memories, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Angelica. Most of Riley’s memories of Jonas were second-hand, procured from Nomi or Will. Not nearly specific enough for anyone to extract dangerous details.

Riley let Lila have a glimpse of Jonas talking to Will at Den Haag Centraal. It was a close enough look for Lila’s emotional reaction of the man to bleed through. A few seconds later Riley felt it: a resentful sort of rage, buried deep, anchored in a back corner of Lila’s mind. When Jonas started talking about Angelica, Riley felt a sharp tug, like the anchor was yanked out of the spot where it had stayed abandoned for so long.

“It’s about Jonas _and_ Angelica,” Riley realized, feeling her consciousness drift back into Lila’s Speakeasy. “You haven’t thought about them in a while. Why now?”

“Thought I was done with them,” Lila said simply, turning away. 

Somewhere in the back of their shared mind, Riley felt a barrier rise. Before it separated their consciousness from each other’s, Riley squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the imager of Angelica on the day of her rebirth, on remorseful blue eyes and a sad smile, on Angelica’s hand reaching out to her child before she’d pulled the trigger and left the world with nothing but memories through Jonas’ eyes. 

She was an enigma to Riley. An enigma to all her cluster. And after everything Jonas had done, no one knew what to believe anymore. Riley let her own sense of longing for truth about her Mother swarm over the shared space she and Lila’s minds still encompassed, trying to push down Lila’s wall.

What was the last time Lila had seen Angelica? And Jonas? Were they together? Was her whole cluster there? Was -

Riley felt bricks tumbling at her feet. The wall had crumbled. Broken.

Lila was seething, fists clenched, knocking on the door of the Speakeasy. She called out a name, someone in her cluster, and asked them to let her out so she could take a Blocker. Riley had to act fast.

Angelica. What did Lila know that Riley didn’t? 

The voice started as hushed whispers, but Riley could tell it was Angelica’s voice. It grew louder as Riley let her mind wander closer to the source, and then it wasn’t just Angelica’s voice, but an amalgamation of many voices drifting about the same space. The other voices, however, didn’t have much of an echo. They felt more like thoughts.

Riley found her mind in a black space. The atmosphere around her felt dense, almost claustrophobic, like Lila was resisting her invasion from the outside in. Angelica’s image formed, an apparition in the middle of a void. Her blonde hair was pinned back, and she wore a BPO lab coat. She greeted Riley with a smile.

But the smile wasn’t directed at Riley.

Riley turned around in the body she inhabited and saw seven people standing behind her. Some of them made her recoil in an instinctive fear that she had no explanation for. Riley suppressed her urge to pulled herself out from the memory.

Tears welled up in Angelica’s eyes. Jonas appeared behind Angelica and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and he took a step back with a nod and a smile. 

Angelica reached out a hand, and Riley did the same, noting the manicured red nails that didn’t belong to her. Their fingertips touched, and a memory flashed by: Will’s memory of the day they made the trade with BPO to save Wolfgang. The day he saw Lila’s cluster amid all his fighting with the BPO guards.

It had to be them. Her fear had to have come from Will’s confrontation.

 _Who are you?_ Riley felt herself asking. The voice belonged to Lila.

Riley feel Lila’s hand grip her shoulder in the Speakeasy, dragging her back, yanking her away from the memory. The image of Angelica and Lila’s cluster were fading from her eyes. She prayed Angelica would speak before Lila could shut her out for good.

Before Lila could put up her wall again, Riley heard Angelica’s voice.

_I’m your Mother._

*

“Kala. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Rajan’s voice was tense. She could hear it through the phone. She drew a sharp breath, shuffling in her spot on Wolfgang’s lap. “What is it?” she asked, surprised at how calm she sounded. From across the room, Lito gave her an affirming nod.

“It’s not easy to discuss on the phone,” he said. “Might be easier if we talk in person?”

That made her heart drop. She looked around the small sitting area in the basement near the lab, at Lito and Hernando, who were watching a rom-com on the TV with the volume turned down. And Wolfgang, who sat there holding her, his gentle hand playing with her curls. How she could even begin to explain it all, she had no clue. 

“I… Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Wolfgang turned to her with a look that could only be described as hurt. It made her heart ache. She closed her eyes.

“Kala,” said Rajan, more emphatically now. “Has your safety been compromised? Is that why I can’t come?”

That wasn’t completely wrong. She did get herself seriously injured in a fight with another cluster. Not that Rajan would know about clusters. Wait. Then how did he -

“Why do you ask?” she said instead. “Why do you think my safety is at risk?”

“No, I - I just wanted to make sure.”

Lito raised an eyebrow from across the room, but right now knowing Rajan may be lying gave her no satisfaction. Kala hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with her situation either.

“I’m safe, Rajan.” Again, technically not a lie. But saying it made her feel terrible. 

“Okay, good.” He sounded relieved. “Kala, I’m… I’ve heard the news. There’s been attacks all around the world. Paris, just today.”

“Oh.” That. “I’m okay. I didn’t go out.”

“That’s, erm - good.”

They were going in circles. Kala could feel Wolfgang’s silent frustration despite the Blockers from the way he wrapped his arms tighter around her. There was no easy way to begin explaining the truth. There was no -

“Kala, listen,” Rajan said again, bringing her out of her trance. “I’m asking because - and I’m not accusing you of anything, Kala, it’s just… Ajay called.”

Kala sat up straight. Wolfgang craned his neck to look at her, eyes full of concern. “Ajay? What did he want? Rajan, are you -”

“I’m fine,” he cut in. He didn’t _sound_ fine. He sounded agitated. Worried. For _her_. “I’m - he told me there’s people who are - ahh, I don’t know exactly what he meant -”

“People who are what?”

“Coming after you. Not for something you did,” he added immediately. “It’s… he was going on about something. Like DNA. Something like that. I don’t know if he was toying with me but I have to know. Is there something you’re not telling me? Something you can’t tell me?”

Kala froze. She’d known. She’d known this day would come. But she had been too preoccupied with BPO and the Reciphorum and Bolgers and Veronika and the Archipelago to remember that Rajan wasn’t entirely oblivious. That sooner or later, he’d have noticed something was off. 

“Rajan, there’s -”

For a moment she thought she was going to tell him everything, right there, through the phone, before she could find another reason to stall. But Nomi had told all of them, time and again, that anything digital could be recorded, archived, traced back as incriminating evidence, even. So, with a shake of her head, she amended, “We can’t do this here. Not on the phone. Not now.”

“When?” 

This required strategic planning, procuring evidence… and the probability of the life she’d built for herself falling into disarray. “This isn’t easy to explain. Can I call you back?”

She imagined Rajan nodding. “Of course. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.” She said.

“Anything for you, my love.”

 _My love._ It pained her to hear these words. Not because she doubted his love wasn’t true, but she knew — had known for a long time now, if she was honest with herself — that her love was not. And it never would be. 

“Be safe, Rajan,” she said in place of a goodbye. 

“Be safe,” he said. “I love you.”

She hung up before she could blurt out another lie. 

*

“I know I should tell Rajan. I _know_.”

Kala was kicking at the foot of her stool with the back of her heels, leaning against the lab counter. If Kala’s injuries hadn’t made it hard for her to exert herself, Nomi knew she would probably have been pacing around the entire room by now. Nomi sat facing her, her back agains the storage cabinet where their hosts kept the beakers.

“We’re getting so close to formulating the final plan to bring down BPO, and it’s only a matter of time before Rajan decides calling me every other week is not enough, and he’ll fly to Paris, to our flat, and I won’t be there because I will either be cleaning up after the mess that BPO has left behind, or storming into battle, or - or still in this safe house, if we, for some reason, haven’t made the move to attack -” Kala turned to Nomi, who sat there patiently, waiting for her to finish her rant - “What do you think?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

She groaned. “I didn’t think - it’s so _soon_! How has it already been a month?”

“You know you can’t avoid him forever, Kala.”

“I know.” She put her face in her hands. “I don’t know - How am I going to explain all this? How am I going to explain _Wolfgang_? It’s going to destroy Rajan.”

Nomi scooted forward and put a hand on Kala’s shoulder, making her look up. She tucked a strand of loose curls behind Kala’s ear. “It’ll destroy him more if he found out another way.”

“But what if he doesn’t? What if we just left? Find some place where no one knows us. Like… Oh! Iceland. Or America. What if we move to California and -”

“Do you really think that’s best for you?”

Sheepishly, Kala shook her head. “But we’ll be able to start over,” she tried, a feeble attempt, they both knew. 

“You know you’ll never let it go unless you tell him.”

Kala sighed, giving in. “But how?”

“I’ll compile the data I pulled up. You’re both scientists. That should be enough to convince him about the sensate thing.”

“What about Wolfgang?”

“I think once he believes you about _Homo sensorium_ , it should be easier to explain.”

Kala frowned and fiddled with the fabric on her nightgown, staring at the area where she’d changed her bandage a few hours ago. Nomi reached forward and held her hand, but she knew Kala wasn’t pained because of the physical injury. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen if I tell him,” Kala admitted. “It’s - I’ve never done anything like this. I never _thought_ I’d do anything like this.”

“Sometimes we surprise ourselves.” Nomi thought back to all the changes in her life she’d made in the past year. In retrospect it seemed logical that she’d chosen to get back to her criminal ways given the cards she was dealt. But there was a time when she thought she’d moved on from hacking entirely.

“I’m not sure how I feel about surprises,” said Kala.

At that, Nomi smirked, remembering Kala’s first wedding. “I think we all know how you feel about this one.”

An indignant gasp. “Nomi!”

“You know it’s worth it. Telling the truth about Wolfgang. It’ll set you free.”

“I know, but -” Kala lowered her voice - “my parents would be upset. I know they would. ”

Nomi could understand her hesitation, even if she’d never had to make decisions based on consequences it would bring to her family herself. She supposed, on top of cultural differences, that having supportive parents made it difficult for Kala to grow out of the fear of disappointing them.

“I know your parents, Kala. They want you to be happy. And they liked Rajan _because_ they thought he made you happy.”

“They thought he was a good match.”

“Hey.” Nomi stood up, walked behind Kala, and looped her arms around her shoulder. “You’ve found a better match, haven’t you?”

That made Kala smile, despite everything. “I have.”

“See? It might take them a while to wrap their head around -” she looked around the lab - “all _this_ , but they’ll come around.”

“I’ll have to change my job.” Kala shrugged. That, Nomi knew she wasn’t too upset about. Not after she’d heard about them selling expired pharmaceutical stock. “Maybe I can work for a company that actually helps people.”

“Or a company that helps sensates. You can finish what Angelica started too. You have the advantage.” Nomi gave her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “Not that we’ll reveal the whole _Homo sensorium_ thing at once. But still.”

Kala thought about it. “What _are_ your plans after we take down BPO?”

Nomi pulled her stool closer and sat back down, facing Kala. “Neets and I were thinking, we should work on pulling up evidence that’ll incriminate Joong-Ki. Something to prove he’s been working with _Vor_. And we can see if anything similar comes up for Dani’s parents, maybe even Joaquín.”

Kala’s eyes sparkled with something mischievous. “Have you found anything yet?”

Nomi shook her head. “But some of the Veracity hackers are helping. Something has to come up eventually. Digital data always leaves a trace.”

“And after that?”

“Mavis said Veracity’s planning to reveal _Homo sensorium_ ’s existence. The truth, science and all. Not all at once, but they have a five-year plan, so it’s less of a shock for the _sapiens_. She doesn’t know the details.”

“We have to stop Veronika before false information get out.”

“Exactly.”

That was the end of that discussion. So now -

“I told Rajan I’d call him back,” said Kala. “But when? When should I tell him?”

“Better now than later.”

They ended up writing a script. Kala rehearsed it three times, before nodding for Nomi to hand her the burner phone with the number already dialed in. Nomi walked around and put her hands on Kala’s shoulders again, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

A few minutes later Kala ended the call, after making a plan to meet Rajan in Lyon in two days’ time. She looked like she was about to cry. From nerves? Anticipation? Maybe a mix of both. Nomi plucked the phone away from her hand and gave her a hug from behind, until she felt Kala’s breathing calm.

“I can’t go back home after this,” she said, her voice shaky.

“You don’t have to. Might help if the two of you move someplace new.”

“Is that what you did?” 

“I moved out when I started college, way before I met Neets. But yeah.”

Kala frowned. “And it helped?”

“Like I said, sometimes we surprise ourselves. I did things I never thought I could.”

“Was it hard?” Kala asked in a small voice. “Did you ever think about going back?”

“At first. I got used to it pretty quick, though. And in the end?” She examined her left hand from over Kala’s shoulder, twirling her ring with the tip of her thumb. “Totally worth it.”

Kala nodded. Still scared, but Nomi knew she wasn’t going to back out.

“And you won’t be alone,” Nomi added, before she helped Kala up from her seat and guided her to the stairs, holding her hand.

“I’ll have Wolfgang.”

Nomi chuckled. “You’ll have all of us.”

*

Riley and Wolfgang took first watch that night after Kala had fallen asleep, and everyone had returned to their rooms to process the Lila revelation Riley had shared after she returned from her visit to Lila’s Speakeasy. They shared the couch and turned on a Eurovision rerun in the living room, enjoying the quiet time after midnight they used to take for granted. 

Even though they weren’t completely alone.

Amélie sat in Riley’s lap, tugging at the ears of the stuffed beagle she was cuddling, a gift from her mother, who stayed for dinner every other evening. Her mother had put her to bed before she’d left, but Amélie had woken up a few hours later, and, despite Gina’s exasperated pleas, refused to stay in bed. She seemed to have a penchant for fighting sleep, no matter how tired she was. Right now she was leaning her head lazily against Riley’s chest, and her eyes were shutting of their own volition, though she’d tried her best to keep them open.

“Do you think things would’ve been different if Angelica hadn’t died?” Riley asked, keeping her voice quiet. She hoped the cadence of her foreign words would be enough to lull the child into boredom and make her give into exhaustion.

Wolfgang frowned. “We wouldn’t have been friends. Not with Lila.”

That, she supposed, was true. She couldn’t envision any of them negotiating with a woman who associated herself with the Kings under any circumstance.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Wolfgang added. “What’s done is done.”

Riley nodded. “She got you captured,” she said. She wasn’t sure exactly why she’d said it — to remind herself, perhaps, why they had kept their distance from the other cluster?

“She hurt Kala.”

She did. Riley remembered the night they’d rushed her back to the safe house, the way the doctor had peeled off the shirt plastered to Kala’s wound and revealed the cut. The look in Wolfgang’s eyes was something Riley could never unsee. He looked ready to kill.

Riley used to think she wasn’t capable of hurting others. But if it had been Will lying on the lab counter with a knife wound, she wasn’t sure she’d have reacted differently. 

“She’ll pay for what she did,” Riley found herself saying.

Wolfgang nodded curtly. “She made her choice. We made ours.”

The Archipelago had been able to confirm the location of two of Veronika’s homes, the houses she returned to on a somewhat regular basis. One was in Scotland, in an isolated neighborhood up north; the other was right in the heart of South Kensington. That had come as a surprise to everyone; they’d expected the Russian to choose a more discreet shelter. Either way, they were one step closer to bringing down BPO from the top. 

“It’s almost go time,” said Riley. 

“Yeah.” He muted the TV when the program cut to a commercial break, but she saw a hint of a smirk despite his neutral expression, likely wondering what would become of him and Kala after this war. “We’ll be free.”

Smiling, Riley looked at the rose gold ring on her finger, tilting her hand to examine the speckles of colors shimmering in the fire opal stone. When they’d gone to bed last night, Will had confessed he’d told her father about his plan to propose. Her father seemed to like Will so far, he’d told her. Riley was sure when the two of them had the chance to properly talk, they’d get along well. “We can go home,” she said.

They were close, really close, to putting an end to their biggest threat at hand. Perhaps a few other higher-up _sapiens_ alongside Veronika, too, in case any of them were lined up to take over the organization once the Russian was history. 

With Bug’s help, Nomi and Amanita had procured basic information on five of the _sapiens_ on the list, simple biographical things, sometimes a photo to two. But they had trouble pinning down the contact information. Like them, the _sapiens_ seemed to always be relocating and reestablishing their connections with new communication devices. The Archipelago, though, was confident they could track these people down.

Wolfgang un-muted the TV as the Eurovision logo came back on the screen.

Amélie crawled off Riley’s lap and settled herself in the space between the adults sitting on the couch. She let go of her stuffed beagle — Riley had to pick it up from the floor — and scooted over to Wolfgang’s side. To Wolfgang’s surprise, she made a grab for his arm. 

Riley noticed Wolfgang had frozen. His expression was a mix between befuddlement and fear. The toddler grinned, a full chubby-cheeked grin, and pulled herself up using Wolfgang’s shoulder as support.

He couldn’t help grin in return. 

“She likes you,” Riley observed.

“She just wants something to hold.”

Riley shook her head. “She trusts you.” As if to prove Riley’s point, the girl climbed onto Wolfgang’s lap and sat there, tilting up her head to look Wolfgang in the eye again. “See?”

He shrugged and stroked Amélie’s blonde curls with a careful hand. Riley expected the girl to giggle, but instead she yawned. On instinct, Wolfgang pulled her close. She laid her head on his chest, and within moments she stopped stirring.

Quirking an eyebrow, Riley looked between a baffled Wolfgang and the sleeping toddler before winking at her cluster-mate. They stood, Wolfgang’s arms wrapped protectively around the girl, and walked up the stairs. Before he put Amélie to sleep, he held her for a moment where he’d knelt by her bed, deep in thought as he looked at the way she smiled peacefully in her sleep.

After they made their ways back down, Wolfgang sat on their couch and faced Riley. “It’s not just us who’s in trouble because of what Lila did,” he said.

Riley wondered what Lila had been trying to accomplish by turning Wolfgang in to the Headhunters. From what she’d detected in the woman’s mind, it seemed have been an impulsive decision. Something had snapped in her after Wolfgang’s blatant refusal of her offer for collaboration, and she wanted to get even.

“We did what we had to do to get you back,” said Riley. “She underestimated us.”

Lila underestimated the strength that came with having something to fight for. Wolfgang might’ve believed they were better off without him, once, but Riley hoped, between Kala and everyone else, that they’d managed to convince him he was family.

He frowned. “She doesn’t know us.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not all clusters are like us.”

They were silent for a few moments, watching the people singing in strange costumes on TV. Neither of them were paying attention to the performance itself, but the music helped them think.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Wolfgang said finally.

“What doesn’t matter?”

“What past bullshit went on between her cluster and BPO, and Angelica.”

 _And you._ Riley nodded. “What’s done is done.”

Riley could spend days thinking about what could have been, but she knew the only thing that mattered now was what they did next. Wolfgang had always been better at confronting the harsh realities, but after spending over a month under one roof, his fighting spirit seemed to have affected them all.

“What’s done is done,” Wolfgang echoed. “All that matters now is how we fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who won NaNoWriMo yesterday? :D (Hence the reason for the slight delay. But yay for productivity!) The end of November (and the semester) is drawing close and I'm dying a slow and painful death, but hey, at least there's Sense8 feels, right? *sobs*


	25. When the world’s unkind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot more backstories are revealed, and Jonas can’t seem to catch a break.
> 
> “When the world's unkind  
> I will make you smile  
> I will stay right by your side until the end.”  
> — From “World Falls Apart”, by Dash Berlin (feat. Jonathan Mendelsohn) (S1E1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy you're all enjoying this post-canon fic but here's a reminder to FIGHT FOR SEASON THREE! We've done it before and gotten us a special, WE CAN DO IT AGAIN. And I sure know I'd like to see Lana's take on Season 3 since she'd already WRITTEN IT.
> 
> If you have a Netflix account you can keep spamming the "request TV shows or movies" page with "Sense8 Season 3", or call them, or talk to a representative on live chat and tell them why you want this show to be revived :)
> 
> Plus, you can check out accounts like @sense8dailys on twitter. They've organized ways to make our voices heard, and you can find the email address of all the Netflix decision makers and their mailing address. 
> 
> I heard we're sending post cards that say "HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR" to Netflix before New Year's Day. That should be fun!
> 
> (Or just tweet directly @netflix and annoy the hell out of them. That worked last time, heh!)

******July 30, 2017**

When Lito woke up at five in the morning for the last watch with Henrik, he didn’t expect to see Damien charging down the stairs from the second floor with a plastic sword, hollering “no more lies”. Leon had warned him they’d watched his movies too many times on quiet evenings. Lito had assumed Leon meant only the five of them. Not a nine-year-old.

Then again, knowing Damien, he wouldn’t be surprised if the boy had persuaded Leon, who’d helped him pester the rest of the hosts until they’d all relented.

“Damien!” Henrik hissed. He rushed up and snatched the sword away before the kid could take out someone’s eye. “You’re gonna wake Amélie up!”

“Oops.” Damien stuck out his tongue. “No more lies,” he whispered instead, shaking a fist. “No more lies. No more lies!”

“Sorry about that.” Henrik hauled Damien down the rest of the stairs by the underarms. “Don’t know why he’s even up so early.”

“It’s no problem.” Lito smirked. Damien reminded him of himself as a boy, battling the days away against villains from his imagination. Though he and María had kept each other company. He supposed Leon did, too, with Damien, but it wasn’t the same.

“I’m hungry. You got food? I want food.” Damien dashed to the kitchen before either men could respond. Exchanging sighs, they followed suit. 

By the time the reached the kitchen, Damien was already seated at the kitchen island, biting into a frozen waffle. Henrik took it from him before he could break his teeth, and put a few more waffles into the toaster. Lito brought out two mugs and started the coffee machine.

“Lito, how’d you get the blood in that scene in _Our Father Art in Hell_?” Damien asked a few minutes later, piling syrup and whipped cream on his now properly-heated breakfast. “Like - pshhhh -” he wiggled his fingers, imitating the blood gushing out from his neck. “ _No more liessss_ ,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically.

Next to Damien, Henrik snorted into his mug.

From across the kitchen island, Lito took a long gulp of his own coffee before clearing his throat. “It wasn’t real blood,” he explained. “Just red ink. And prosthetics.”

“Aww.”

“What, did you tell him it was real blood?” Lito asked Henrik.

The younger man scratched his head, his cheeks flushing pink. “I said I didn’t know. Said he had to ask the man himself. None of us expected you to _show up_.”

“Everyone’s surprised when they see me,” Lito said. He remembered the look on Pelzer’s face when he’d removed the mask of his Hazmat suit, gray eyes expanding to the size of golf balls upon the revelation. That image was almost worth being on Blockers for the rest of the battle. _Almost_.

“Yeah. Because you’re famous,” Damien pointed out. 

Lito put on a mock look of indignation. “Hey, famous people can be sensates.”

Henrik shrugged in a Damien-has-a-point sort of way. “I guess no one expects it. We’ve had other public figures in the Archipelago. Retired ones, mostly, but not like you.”

“And you weren’t hiding,” Damien added. “Not like us. Or my mom.”

Lito turned to Henrik with a frown. Henrik shook his head before Damien could catch either of them in the communication. Lito and his family had stumbled upon the portraits on the stairs not long after Riley did. That night, after the kids had gone to bed, Miki had quietly brought everyone up to speed in the basement lab. They’d agreed to avoid the mention of mothers whenever the boy was around.

“That’s true,” Lito said quickly, hoping to change the conversation. “I’m everywhere.”

“Mm.” Damien prodded at his last waffle, jabbing holes into the surface with his fork. “Wish my mom’s everywhere. I’d know where she is.”

“Hey.” Henrik patted the boy on the shoulder and lowered himself to meet him in the eye. “She’ll get in touch, alright? She just has to lay low because -”

“Cannibal’s hunting,” Damien drawled, crossing his arms. “Yeah yeah. I know. You’ve told me. He’s always hunting.”

Henrik looked Lito in the eye and mouthed _help_. 

Lito opened his mouth, but for the first time in ages he didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He usually would’ve come up with a lie by now, but he’d never lied to children. And he couldn’t bring Damien’s hopes up in case -

No. No. That couldn’t have been true. She was hiding. On quarantine. She must have been.

Not that Lito could believe his own words anymore.

“Maybe she’s taking too many Blockers,” Damien said again, sparing Lito for the moment. “I haven’t seen her in months.”

“I miss her too, dear,” said Henrik. 

“No, I mean I haven’t _seen_ her. She used to visit. She visited a month ago.”

Henrik startled. “What do you mean a month ago? Damien, she left Paris two years -”

“Two years ago. _I know._ I mean like - like when one of you go _poof_ and show up in front of me when you’re actually in the garden, or downstairs, or somewhere.”

“Visiting?” Lito perked up. Sara Patrell had done it with Will. He could still see her ghost years after she’d died. _Of course_ a sensate parent would be able to visit their children, born or unborn. “She came to see you?” Lito tried to keep his tone neutral, like he was asking a normal question. “Did she - did she say anything?”

“She said she loved me.” Damien frowned. “And _sorry_. I said it’s okay but she kept saying sorry before she said goodbye.”

Henrik’s face blanched. Lito felt his hands go cold.

“Damien,” said Henrik, slowly. Lito could tell he was trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought she wanted to talk alone.”

“Right. Yeah.” Henrik shrugged. “Never mind, I was, erm, I was curious.”

“She missed you,” Lito added, diverting Damien’s attention when it looked like Henrik couldn’t keep his smile up for much longer. “They have to keep her on Blockers, all the time, like me, see?” He showed Damien the emergency bottle he kept in his own pocket. “But she slipped in a few seconds to see you, before she had to take another one.”

“Right. Yeah,” said Damien, his voice slightly higher than normal. “I know that, it’s just… I miss her too.” Damien pushed the last waffle around his plate with the fork. “And dad.”

Lito raised an eyebrow. Henrik shook his head. Damien was still looking at his food, but Lito saw a slight twitch of his fingers, and he was frowning. Something told Lito the kid knew more than he was letting on.

Damien most likely realized Lito was scrutinizing him. He laid the fork on the plate and looked up at Lito across from him. “You don’t have to feel bad for me,” he said. With a jolt, Lito realized the kid had been observing him, too. “I know we’re in danger. The Headhunters killed my dad.”

“I’m sorry, Damien,” said Lito. Henrik put an arm around Damien’s shoulder.

“I mean, it’s not _your_ fault,” said the boy. “And I was three. I don’t really remember him. But I still miss him.”

“I know.” Lito’s heart ached for the boy. He’d lost his father to cancer not long before he moved to Mexico City. Every Christmas, seeing the empty seat at the family table felt like reopening a fresh wound. He couldn’t imagine growing up without _papá_.

“But it’s okay,” said Damien, putting on his own smile. “I still have mom. And I can see them both. Sometimes together.”

Lito looked between Henrik and Damien, puzzled.

“They were in the same cluster,” the boy explained.

Lito froze. The only _sensorium_ child Lito had gotten close to knowing was Sara Patrell. It was always so shocking to learn a new aspect of their sensacity.

“And someday you’ll have your own cluster.” Henrik ruffled Damien’s hair. He exchanged another look with Lito, one full of unspoken pain.

“I know.” Damien leapt off the high stool, his syrup-soaked waffle forgotten. “Mavis said the earliest is at thirteen.”

“Th-thirteen?” Lito croaked.

“She said it’s rare,” Damien explained. “But there was one cluster. Maybe I’ll be reborn early too.” He looked at Lito. “I hope I’ll have _nine_ cluster-mates.”

Lito chuckled. “Maybe.”

Damien stretched, exaggerating his groan. “I’m stuffed. Let’s watch a movie. Oh! _El Caído_.” He ran to the living room and dashed straight for the shelf where they kept DVDs.

Throughout the movie, Lito checked on the boy, but he seemed to be fully engrossed in the plot, even if, as Henrik pointed out, they had seen this movie “an embarrassing number of times”. Damien insisted on Lito doing a live demonstration of the scene where Tino killed the Father, and he was happy to comply. 

The movie was bittersweet in many ways, It was the last role he’d taken before he came out. It was the last time he pretended to be the hero, before he’d stepped up and done something heroic in real life. And it was during this scene that he felt the connection to his cluster for the first time.

Lito felt the corners of his lips quirk into a smile before he morphed his face into the solemn _El Caído_ expression, and delivered the final punchline in front of the TV.

Damien cheered, a whispered cheer, as most of the house was still asleep. Henrik, too, gave a quiet round of applause. At the moment the boy seemed happy, but Lito exchanged a worried look with Henrik, knowing this distraction was temporary. The pain of losing a loved one comes and goes. Damien would ask questions about his mother again — maybe in a few hours, maybe a few weeks. 

Lito hoped it was the latter. And he hoped, by then, his cluster would have taken down BPO and found the answer. One way or another.

*

Nomi had told Sun she’d send Detective Mun a new number to call everyday in case of new developments. Sun had been annoyed, but against all reason, she couldn’t refuse. She’d even found herself hoping he’d call. What had gotten into her?

He called on the third day, at three in the morning in Paris’ time.

“We’ve received hard evidence that your brother hired people to kill you in prison, Miss Bak. Courtesy of some of you hacker friend.”

Sun raised an eyebrow at Nomi, who, coincidentally, was taking the guarding shift with her. Nomi shrugged. “Must be one of the Guys at Veracity.”

“The court’s moved the date of his trial forward in light of the new evidence. But we still need your testimony.”

“I’m aware,” said Sun. And she was. A part of her was rejoicing in her brother being brought to justice, but with BPO threatening to unleash hell on her kind, it would be unwise to travel. “But I can’t.”

“You’re safe now,” he said, full of conviction. “Please, come back.”

She sighed. “It’s not that simple, Mun.”

“They’re keeping a closer watch on him now in detention. His trial still can’t go on without your testimony, but he can’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Sun smiled, a sad smile. “But he’s not -” she took a deep breath and looked around the safe house, and at Nomi, who was listening to something else using headphones, knowing Sun needed space - “he’s not the only one.”

“Are there others?” Mun’s voice sounded closer, like he was leaning in to the receiver. She imagined him frowning. “Others working for him? Tell me.”

“Not for him. Well -”

They did discover Veronika might be one of her father’s old business contacts a while back. Really, by this point, nothing surprised her about her brother. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she said. “But it’s a different problem. Not related to what Joong-Ki did.”

“Oh.” He paused. She heard the sound of pages flipping, before, “Does it have to do with a woman? London accent, kind of cold, scary sort of voice?”

She froze. “How did you -”

“She called me, Miss Bak.” He sounded amused. Why did he sound amused? He could’ve been killed. _Again_. He was still in danger because of her.

“If you’re joking -”

“I’m serious,” he said. There was no hiding the smirk in his voice.

“What did she say?”

“She wanted me to let your brother go. Gave me all kinds of threats. You know, if you’re telling the truth, and for the sake of this argument I’m gonna believe you _are_ telling the truth about your other predicament being mostly unrelated -”

Sun slammed her fist on the couch cushion she was holding. Her voice was much louder when she interrupted, “ _What threats?_ ”

He chuckled from the other end. “Don’t worry. I get plenty of those. It’s part of the job.”

“You don’t understand.” Her voice was shaking. Slightly. Barely noticeable. But since when did her voice shake? “Ver -” she wanted to say the _sapien_ ’s name, but stopped herself in time - “she’s not like the others. She _will_ carry through with her threat.”

“Sounds like you know her. You can tell me all about her if you come down to the station. I can go escort you from where you’re hiding, if you’re concerned about your safety.”

“No, I -” she ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. Nomi gave her a look of concern, but she shook her head. “I _can’t_ , Mun. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to explain. But there’s nothing you can do for this. It’s not like my case with my brother. You have to believe me.”

“I do.” His voice was full of concern. She pictured his face, downturned corners of his lips coupled with sad eyes. Her fingers threatened to claw the couch cushion inside out. “But there’s got to be something I can do to help -”

“There isn’t,” she cut in, sounding harsher than she’d intended. _Unless you want to get yourself killed. Maybe you do. You’re reckless. Stupidly reckless, I can’t even begin to -_

 _Fine._ I _don’t want you to get yourself killed._

He was persistent. “Maybe if you try and explain the situation to me -”

“Why do you care so much?”

Her voice was full-on shaking now, but she’d stopped trying to hide it. He could attribute it to agitation. It wasn’t like he’d suspect she cared. About him. And she did. But only because her brother had nearly taken his life, and she felt responsible. Only that.

“If you’re worried I’m gonna be in danger, don’t. My run-in with your brother? It wasn’t the first time I nearly got myself killed, and it’s not gonna be the last.”

“What _was_ your first?”

“It was a long time ago.” He tried to shrug it off. But she’d heard it. She’d heard the way his voice thickened, burdened with a guilt she couldn’t place. “It’s been three years. Three and a half now, I think.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “It’s all in the past. I mean, either way, I said I’d help you with the case and I -”

“Mun,” she insisted, “I want to know.”

“Telling you won’t change your mind about coming back, will it?”

She knew he was joking. Or, trying to. 

“I can’t.” It pained her to say it again. “But I want to know why this is so important.”

There was pause on the other end of the line. After ten, twenty seconds, she thought he was going to hang up. But then he mumbled, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She was relieved he’d relented. Why did _she_ care so much?

Mun took a deep breath. “Her name was Chun Hei.” 

Sun frowned. “Was she your first?”

“My first case? No. But it’s one I’ll never forget.”

She waited for him to continue.

“Maybe it’s for the best. Reminds me why I became a cop.”

“I’m sure.” After Will, Sun wondered how many cops became cops because they wanted to be heroes, and how many stayed that way. She wanted to know where Mun stood.

“Chun Hei’s mother died when she was young, and her father was involved in dangerous things. Drug dealings, illegal embezzlements, all that. Dragged her into it, too. Said she was part of the family. My Lieutenant caught one of their cronies in the act. Eventually it was traced back to her family. But her father didn’t go to jail. She did.”

Sun wanted to punch a wall. “She took the fall for them,” she said. A bitter tear rolled off her cheek. Nomi came over and put her arm around her shoulder, dabbing at her cheek with a tissue. She leaned in to Nomi’s touch.

“All of us at the station knew it couldn’t have been her. But we didn’t have evidence pointing to all of her family, and in her testimony she said it was all her, and her dad had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t that kind of person, you know? She was a music teacher. She told me once, she got the job because she wanted to help children, to see if anyone needed someone to listen when their families couldn’t.”

Of course Chun Hei wasn’t the type. She was forced. Trapped. 

Sun scoffed, a tearful scoff. Nomi whispered something in her ear, but she didn’t pay attention. She muttered she was fine, and, after giving her a hug, Nomi backed away, back to her couch to give her space. _Talk later,_ Nomi mouthed. Sun nodded.

“I didn’t want an innocent person to go to jail. So I investigated her father’s business, hoping to find a lead, anything that might incriminate him.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I did.” He sounded pained. She clutched her fist. “And I told her I did. I visited her in prison, and I told her I could keep her safe until the trial. I told her I could collect her new testimony down at the station, prove she was threatened to take the fall. We could put her father where he belonged and set her free.”

She pursed her lips. That sounded like the sort of reckless thing he’d do, the kind that’d get him killed. But knowing at least one cop out there wanted to help felt kind of nice. Warm, almost. Not that she’d tell him. He was smug enough as he was.

“But one day before I’d arranged to escort her to the station, I walked home late after work, and some of her father’s men were there. They said if I didn’t let the case go, I’d pay. So I fought them. And there were… Seven, maybe eight of them?”

“You were outnumbered.”

“I was. One of them stabbed me.”

Her heart dropped.

“I was fine,” he said. “I think he didn’t aim for the kill. Just wanted to scare me.”

But still -

“I got out of the hospital a week later, and I went to the prison to talk to her. And they said she -” his voice broke. He paused. There were shuffling sounds from his end, before she heard a thud. Maybe he’d kicked his desk. Or punched something, too.

Mun took a deep breath. “She killed herself. She killed herself in prison.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She heard him sniffle, before clearing his throat. “She left a note. My Lieutenant showed it to me. She said she didn’t care if she suffered alone, but she didn’t want someone to die for her.”

 _I don’t want anyone to die for me, either. I don’t want_ you _to die for me._

“I wanted to be a cop to help people. I knew what I’d signed up for. But I’m not going to quit doing what I have to do because I fear for my life.”

“I know.” He’d made that clear, time and again.

“I failed her. I’m not going to fail you too.”

“It’s out of your control, Mun.”

“It’s my job to defend people the system failed to protect. People like you, Miss Bak. What kind of officer would I be if knew you were in danger and did nothing?”

A safe one? One who knew their limits? One who acted like all the other officers in charge of her case, who’d believed what they’d heard and moved on?

But she didn’t tell him any of this. She knew, from the days she spent inside Will’s head, that telling him now wouldn’t change his mind. It’d make him more determined to help.

“Sun,” she said instead. “You can call me Sun.”

“Sun.” There was a smile in his voice.

“It’s out of your control.”

“I understand there are things you can’t tell me. I won’t pry, if you think telling me’s going to put you in more danger. But if you ever need an intervention, if it ever gets too bad and you need my help -”

“I’ll call you,” she said. And, surprisingly, she meant it.

“I’ll be waiting.” He sounded like he meant it, too. “Stay safe, Sun.”

*

When would the August 8 cluster to make the next move?

Maitake had known the meeting with Wolfgang’s cluster was a trap, and loosened himself from the jacket deliberately, hoping the added information could give their ex-enemies enough of a lead to take down Veronika. Much like the way Marcela decided to avoid aiming for the kill during her struggle with Mrs Rasal — grudges aside, taking the chemist down would mean one less leverage against Veronika. But Veronika had taken more precautions now that she knew some information was compromised. And Maitake, along with the rest of his cluster, had found themselves growing impatient. 

“There’s no use staying here,” he pointed out. Across the living room, his three remaining cluster-mates turned to him. “She’s going to find us. We should give ourselves up.”

Lila looked incredulous. “What, and let her butcher our brains?”

“We might be able to negotiate -”

“With Veronika? Maitake, I know people like her. I’ve dealt with people like her. She’s going to have us executed.”

Ragnar spoke up from where he sat cross-legged on the couch, shuffling the deck of cards he always carried with an expert hand. His stark white hair glinted underneath the lamp light, the bluntly-chopped tips grazing the sides of his chin. “Then we play smart. Like she does.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Marcela.

They watched their Estonian cluster-mate take out the Queen of Hearts and flip it in the air with the tip of his fingers before stuffing it back into the deck. Ragnar’s sleight-of-hand was always mesmerizing to watch. There was a hidden deadliness to the way his performance caught people’s eyes, rendering them unaware of the truth behind the dazzles of his magic tricks. “Say we have something to offer, in exchange for Sylvie and Quyền’s freedom.”

Lila shook her head. “We won’t hold up under the Traceworks for long. She’ll know it’s a lie.”

But it wasn’t about beating the Russian to the next move. It hasn’t been since the assassination of Sebastian Fuchs had backfired, and costed them what little reason Veronika had to keep them alive. “We need to know her next plan of attack,” said Ragnar. “That’s all.”

“Wolfgang’s not going to cave,” said Lila. “And he won’t believe what we say.”

There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. She glared at nothing in particular as her fingers curled, nails scratching the fabric of her borrowed jeans. Her silent rage over the German’s rejection hasn’t faltered. If anything, it festered after she’d spent a few days trapped underneath the August 8 cluster’s basement.

Maitake sighed. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” 

At that, Marcela quirked an eyebrow, brown eyes piercing. Maitake knew what she was thinking, even if her mind was inaccessible at the moment. Risk-taking was hardly the way he’d chose to go. He had frowned upon Lila’s reckless since their rebirth, when BPO had traced down their identities through their Mother and offered a deal for collaboration. For their cooperation in BPO’s research, Veronika had promised the cluster immunity from _sapiens_ , should information about their existence be released to the world. As part of the deal, the knowledge the organization gained would be made accessible to them too.

Maitake had been skeptical of the Russian’s intentions. Really, all eight of them had been. But Lila had wanted to test the limits of their powers and understand the leverage they had against _sapiens_ at large. In the end they compromised for the sake of safety: instead of trying to hide from BPO’s prying eyes after they had already been found once, they had, in Jonas’ words, made a deal with the devil. Thought when Headhunters became distracted with the August 8 cluster, they saw an opportunity, a window of time to try and free themselves. 

To say they’d failed would have been an understatement.

“We can’t surrender,” Lila insisted. “We can find another way.”

Maitake glared. “There is no other way.”

“Mm,” Ragnar spoke up again, adjusting the collars of his black leather jacket, the one he’d never parted with since BPO had flown him to London. “That’s not entirely true.”

“This is no time for theatrics,” said Marcela.

His pale lips curled up into a thin smile. “The simplest solution. Tried-and-true.”

“What solution?” Lila snapped. She’d grown impatient, too. Normally Maitake would’ve frowned at her temper, but in this instance, he’d grown equally agitated. None of their cluster were the type to sit indoors brooding over theoretical battle plans. Cabin fever had driven them to the brink of madness.

“We join the resistance. We know the August 8 cluster has a high chance of succeeding in their conquest for the throne.”

“Wolfgang’s not going to -”

“I don’t mean we sign a peace treaty,” Ragnar explained, his voice airy and calm as ever. “We can find a way to ensure the collaboration without the potential backstabbing. Some form of forced alliance, one they can’t find it in their right minds to refuse.”

Maitake frowned. After the predictable betrayal the August 8 cluster had pulled both times, trustworthiness was hardly their finest quality. “There’s always room for deception. They’ll say it’s for the sake of a good cause.”

“Double-crossing is a tried-and-true tactic,” admitted the magician. “Which is why, as I always say at the beginning of my show, the answer -” he pulled out the Queen of Hearts from behind the collar of his jacket, one corner of his mouth ticking at the way the three of them suppressed their looks of surprise - “is right in front of you. _You_ ,” he turned to Lila.

“Me?” She looked puzzled. 

“Well, the man you were with before you made your way back.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jonas. Of course.”

“Why Jonas?” asked Marcela.

Ragnar leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee stand as he shuffled his deck again. “He’d betrayed them, almost as many times as he’d turned his back on us.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “You want me to turn Jonas in?”

“A small lead would do. Veronika has resources to track him down from there.”

 _Indeed_ , thought Maitake. Offering a viable piece of information. That ought to keep Veronika from straight-up executing them.

Marcela nodded. “Jonas knows where they are.”

“Where they _were_ ,” Lila pointed out. “They would have relocated after I got out.”

“Either way,” Maitake spoke up, “his interrogations would buy us some time, and it’s a lead Veronika would follow. Meanwhile, we can find a way to track them down for real.”

“That wouldn’t help us,” said Lila. “Wolfgang would -”

Ragnar turned to her, smirking. 

“ _Oh_.” She caught on. “We add another leverage. Make the deal hard to refuse.”

“This is where my plan for surrender comes in,” Maitake realized. “We find out Veronika’s next plan — date, location, anything else — and we offer it to them.”

“Seems they have their own way to gather intel,” Marcela pointed out.

Lila perked up. “We have a third leverage, too,” she said. “You’ve said you’ve given them the names? And Veronika’s address?”

“Four of her homes,” Maitake recalled.

“But Veronika’s staged attacks never happen during the night. She always plans to see them through -” Marcela smirked - “in her office.”

It was typical of Veronika to revel in the fear of her fellow _sapiens_. Having linked minds made sensates a force, but Veronika was playing a numbers game. And since there were no neighborhoods like the _sensorium_ -run _Rione_ in Berlin they’d planned to build, sensates would be vulnerable against their newfound fear-driven enemies.

“Exactly.” Lila perked up. “When the time comes, we can take them to _her_.”

*

Jonas had spent a long time wondering under what circumstances he would be reunited with Kareem. They hadn’t spent much time together since he’d joined Veracity before Angelica’s death, save for the brief exchanges before they went their separate ways: Kareem to Athens to assist with the Blocker trade, and Jonas to Chicago.

It felt odd to be back in Chicago under a circumstance that was debatably worst than before. The fact that one of his oldest friend was lying on a makeshift bed of moth-eaten mattress and patched blankets, an IV drip feeding into his veins, didn’t help. But the retired doctor at the safe house had done the best he could with the equipments available, and so far, the Egyptian’s life signs are stable. Weak, but stable.

“You look like I’m dying, Jo,” he cracked a joke, the corners of his bloodied lips quirking.

“We’re all dying. Slowly, but surely.”

Kareem snorted. With his weak lungs, the sound came out more like a huff, but Jonas knew what he’d meant. “You haven’t changed.”

Jonas sighed. “I’ve gone too far down the path to change.”

“Let me guess.” Kareem groaned and shuffled slightly in the mattress, nudging against the pillow, which was slipping away from under his head. Jonas pulled it down so part of it could support his neck. “You haven’t told them?”

“Lila dropped by for a few seconds before I took my last dose. She said they’d found out.”

The Egyptian raised an eyebrow, impressed, though his black eye throbbed in protest. “Was it Wolfgang? I knew he’d be good at this invasion thing.”

“Riley Blue, actually.”

“The DJ?”

“Yes. The DJ.”

“Why you wanted to keep them away from Lila’s cluster at all, I’ll never understand. They’d have made good allies.”

At that, Jonas chuckled. “It would appear Miss Facchini made Wolfgang’s acquaintance before I could reveal that part of Angelica’s past. And you know Lila; she’s never been the forgiving type.”

If it weren’t for his lungs, Jonas was sure Kareem would have chortled. “Right. I suppose you should’ve broken it to Will and the others sooner. Could’ve avoided all this drama.”

Jonas looked annoyed. “I thought Lila’s cluster were lost to the Headhunters. Lila didn’t inform me of the change in plans. They got it in their heads that they could go rogue and build their own _sensorium_ neighborhood.”

“Guess Veronika’s revenge against them was a wake-up call, huh?”

“They were desperate,” Jonas remembered. “Lila attempted to seek out Wolfgang for help.”

Kareem wheezed, trying to hold back a laugh, brown eyes gleaming. His face turned red at the lack of oxygen. Jonas glared until he’d calmed himself down. When he could breathe again, he asked, “I’m assuming that’s where everything went to hell?”

“You could say. I was quite content in my new hideout until Maitake had demanded my assistance in breaking Lila out from the prison.”

“You best not get yourself caught, then,” said the Egyptian. “Pelzer and Milt, they’ll pry it out of you. Locations and everything.”

Jonas knew that despite Kareem’s good-natured façade, he’d never gotten over the guilt of giving away crucial leads for the Blocker trades under Whispers’ interrogation. But Jonas was hardly good at convincing his friend he wasn’t at fault. There was no such thing as fault, not when the Headhunters had the advantage against uncooperative sensates.

Instead, Jonas shook his head and addressed the problem at hand. “I’m certain Will and the others would have found new places to hide. Stanley said Lito was spotted in Iceland?”

“You think they split up?”

“Perhaps. They do have several ways to communicate without being traced.” 

One of the older inhabitants in the safe house waved from the stove, asking Jonas to help him make breakfast.

“’Course. They can take care of themselves,” Kareem agreed. “I’m glad Mavis is in safe company. Kiira, too.”

Jonas made a move to stand up, and gave his friend a nod. “I don’t doubt Will and the others will find their ways around the Headhunters. Pity I won’t be there to see it.”

Kareem made a hum of agreement. “Yeah. Would’ve been quite a story.”

*

Miki approached Sun in the afternoon when most of the cluster retrieved into the basement lab. Nomi had, with Bug’s help, pulled up more profiles on the _sapiens_ in BPO, and Will and Henrik are updating the cork board to figure out the best way to approach the situation. Sun had stayed upstairs to help clean up after lunch, lost in thought as she scrubbed the plate with a sponge.

The Inuk took the plate from Sun’s hand and smirked. Sun raised an eyebrow.

“Teach me how to fight,” said Miki.

“Now?”

Miki nodded. “I wanna see how you do it. Like that day at the market — Mavis said you took down half the BPO guards.”

Sun smirked. “They should know they need more guards by now.”

“Well, it _is_ hard to know your limit.” Gina walked in smelling like shampoo, a towel wrapped around her hair like a turban. “I’m sure they’ll send more, next time ‘round.”

_I look forward to it._

“As do all of us,” Gina replied. 

Sun startled, backing against the sink. With most of her cluster on Blockers all the time save for Capheus and Riley, she’d forgotten her mind was exposed to prying.

“Why do you want to learn?” asked Sun.

Gina exchanged a look with Miki. “Henrik seems to find his way into trouble more often than I’d like. Thought I might try and help.”

That, Sun supposed, was as good a reason as any. She’d seen the way Henrik faced his opponents at the market. He had a lot of brute strength, and could withstand punches, but he could use a few lessons on fighting tactics.

“You can teach _us_ the tactics,” Miki chipped in. “We can help him if we’re sharing.”

Even better.“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Sun observed.

“I’ve gotten in my fair share of rumbles.” Miki shrugged. Sun remembered what Leon had about Miki said the first day they’d met. Sensing her thought, Miki added, “I’d take his word for it. I win most of my fights.”

“I don’t doubt you do,” said Sun, examining her muscles through the oversized T-shirt she wore, which was slipping off one of her shoulders. 

“Let’s not do this in the kitchen though,” Gina reminded them. 

They decided to use the living room as the practice area instead, an overenthusiastic Miki bounding ahead on their way over. With a grunt, she pushed one couch to the side by herself. Following her lead, Sun and Gina cleared the area of potential obstacles, leaving enough room to practice one-on-one combat. 

First, Sun explained the defensive stance, using herself as an example. She adjusted the position of their feet and arms after they mimicked her position. The basics of where they should distribute tension in their bodies were fairly simple to explain, and after a few minutes Gina and Miki grasped how to defend themselves from anticipated attacks from the front. 

Gina hadn’t experienced fighting hand-to-hand, she’d told Sun. Miki, on the other hand, had gotten in her fair share of rumbles. A quick pat-down of told Sun the Inuk would not go down easily, though her size gave way to underestimation. And a glimpse inside her memory, of her braids whipping past her shoulders as she threw a deadly punch at a man twice her size, made Sun chuckle. 

But Sun wasn’t surprised. Compared to most, Miki’s upbringing was demanding on physical strength. Miki had told her guests stories of the days she spent as a healer’s apprentice in Noatak, hunting for rare herbs deep in the forests nearby in a heavy fur-lined cloak.

“She chopped her own firewood, too,” Gina added, adjusting her fists. She punched the air experimentally, wondering how she could bring about maximum damage. 

Sun held Gina’s wrist and pulled her right arm directly forward, angling her fist for a straight right hand. She pulled out the thumb Gina had wrapped inside her fist, one of the most deadly beginner mistakes, and explained how she should expect her weight to shift from one foot to the other when she threw the punch.

“I’m handy with an axe,” Miki announced proudly, imitating the punch.

“It’s a good start,” said Sun. After all, should they find themselves in another struggle with BPO, brandishing makeshift weapons would be a good additional skill. Cutting trees weren’t so different from chopping down people.

“Exactly.” Miki beamed, a sweet-dimpled smile on her face as she fantasized about knocking down BPO guards with a stolen baton. “And if I know it, we all know it.”

After learning a few more simple but effective moves, the hosts asked about the sharing aspect of fighting with a cluster. After all the practice Sun had received with her cluster in the past year, she found it natural to slip inside someone else’s body and guide their limbs like they were her own. But teaching it theoretically was another matter. 

There were the basic tricks the fighter could pull to stop themselves from being knocked down too quickly. When Sun fought alongside her cluster in a large scale confrontation, they’d hold off their opponents with a steady position while Sun slipped into others’ bodies to help one at a time. When they’d first arrived in London, Sun had taught to her less experienced cluster-mates the basics, the defensive stances as well as offensive moves. 

It had saved their lives multiple times during their BPO invasion while Sun was on her way to kidnap Jonas. Thankfully, Sun wasn’t the sole fighter. She may have infinite ways to deal with an enemy, but she only had one mind.

“It’s like pressing a ‘pause’ button before you could take over, isn’t it?” asked Gina.

A fitting metaphor. Sun nodded.

To demonstrate, she fought Gina. It was difficult to remember she was fighting a friend and not go all-out. But as soon as she moved too swiftly, Miki would step in via sharing and block Sun’s attacks through Gina’s body. The Inuk may be out of practice, but she had enough stamina and strength to hold her own.

Riley came upstairs to fetch drinks a few minutes later, and she was amused to find Sun practicing combat with their hosts. At Sun’s request, Riley joined in. They broke off in pairs to practice sharing in combat — Sun lending to Riley, and Miki lending to Gina. 

Riley was happy to back in action, Sun could tell. Her cluster-mates’ general stance on hand-to-hand had shifted, the more time they spent with Sun. Riley had been with Will and the others during the BPO raid, too. Sun had lent her expertise to everyone throughout the struggle, but Kala had singlehandedly punched a Hazsuit in the face and snatched the gun from their hands before Sun could get around to sharing.

Needless to say, it was one of Sun’s proudest moments.

A while later, the others emerged from the basement to watch them practice, cheering on whichever side happened to be losing at the time. Gina and Miki fought Sun and Riley with hardened gazes, jaws clenched in a fierce determination not unlike the one Sun saw in her own cluster-mates. Riley successfully locked Miki in a position on the ground, and Will cheered before Riley let the younger woman go with a friendly nod. They sat down on the ground to take a break. Sun broke off from her spar with Gina, who ran off, jumped into Henrik’s arms and peppered his cheeks with chaste kisses. 

Sun watched in quiet adoration as the rest of her cluster and allies broke into chatter, discussing “battle tactics” (Lito’s words) with anecdotes of Sun’s apparent “mother-fucking badassery” (Felix’s words). Maybe this protective instinct was present in some _sapiens_ , and all sensates. All except the Headhunters. Why? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

After learning the history of the photographs by the back stairs of their safe house, Sun had come to realize why so many sensates and _sapien_ allies had been determined to help out. Her cluster’s fight against BPO wasn’t personal anymore, not since Wolfgang had been rescued. They had gained countless allies. And now they had a lot more to lose.

*

That night, Capheus entered Kiira’s room. Kiira was flipping through a copy of _The Bungalow Mystery_ Nomi had lent her, smiling at something on the page.

“It’s a good series,” he said. 

Once Nomi had begun reading Nancy Drew to everyone back in London, Capheus found himself drawn to the story. He knew Kiira started the first book not long after their meeting near UCL — Mavis told her about their story sessions, and she was intrigued. These days it was harder to find time to continue his cluster’s newfound tradition, but once in a while, after dinner, they’d gather in the living room with the hosts — sometimes Damien, too — and take turns reading out loud.

“It is. I’ve been meaning to get into Nancy Drew since I was a girl. Now seemed as good a time as any,” Kiira said before closing the book. She stood up and marked the page with the silver leaf on the nightstand. “Is it midnight already?”

He nodded yes. “They headed to bed early. Long day.”

And it was. They had managed to procure enough information on the _sapiens_ in BPO to find ways to reach them, though the actual phone calls may have to wait until Veronika was down, in case the Russian had backup helpers waiting to take over.

The two of them walked upstairs to take the first guarding shift in the living room. Since no one was there, the lights were off. At night the hosts had taken to drawing all the curtains shut in case anyone was peeking through the windows. The room was nearly pitch black, so dark Capheus couldn’t locate where Kiira was standing.

Her voice suggested she wasn’t far. “Living room’s about fifteen steps away,” she said, already walking forward.

After a moment’s hesitation he followed, waving his arms around and in front of him to make sure he wasn’t about to run into something. By the time he reached the glass screen door to the living room, Kiira had already turned on the lamp by the couch at the far end.

“How -” he started, before breaking into a grin - “ahh. Your cluster-mate?”

“We used to take turns sharing our vision with Gabriel.”

He nodded, ever-so-impressed at Kiira’s seemingly endless collection of skills. “Was it Mavis’ idea?”

“Not entirely.” Kiira sat down and put the book on her lap. “I thought it would be an interesting experiment. I was hoping once we maintain a regular sharing schedule for a few years, I can see if there’s any change to our brain anatomy from the adaptation.”

“It does seem to help.” He gestured around the large room.

“It taught me to rely on my other senses more,” she pondered. “Gabriel’s had to adjust to this from birth. For us it was all new, but being a sensate means you can borrow experiences, too. In a manner of speaking.”

“I know what you mean.” Capheus remembered when he’d ask Sun to show him memories of her old fighting tournaments. Though he didn’t remember winning medals herself, the pride and even the physical strain was very much present when he experienced the fights through her mind, like they had happened to him.

“All my sharing with Gabriel’s also given me a new system for navigation. Even if I’m out of practice at the moment.”

“Mm.” He looked between them and the screen door. “You can remember how far it is.”

“It’s like a muscle memory. Knowing how many steps to take, how far to reach, all that.”

“Sounds like a good skill to have.”

“And darkness doesn’t seem as frightening after all the experience-sharing we’d done.”

“I’m sure,” he said. He turned to her. “Has it ever scared you? The dark?”

“It used to,” she admitted. “When I was small. Four, maybe five years old? I used to believe there were monsters under my bed. They’d come alive after the lights were turned off. They looked like these illustrated furry monsters in the books my parents used to buy me.”

Capheus nodded. There were a few of these in Riley’s memories, too. Illustrations in children’s storybooks her parents used to read to her, brought to life by her imagination. “What made you let go of this fear?”

“Liam. I made him chase them away every night for years.”

“Ahh.” The image of the freckled man with the full-faced grin came to life in his mind’s eye. He wondered what Liam sounded like. 

“After he left, sometimes I’d worry they’d come back. So dad got fed up and bought me a night light.” She blushed. “I had it until I started year four.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he reassured. “I didn’t like the dark, either.”

“Really?” She tilted her head. “What changed for you?”

He smiled. “I met Jela. So the night became a symbol for something good.”

For a second he tried to show her the memory, but his consciousness met a barrier in the shared space in their minds. With a sigh, he let his thoughts drift back into the living room. Kiira gave him a sad smile. 

“Just tell me,” she said. “Save the memory for when I’m off Blockers”

Capheus pictured himself roaming through the streets of Kibera after dark. The rundown houses all looked the same under the dim orange of the streetlights, and the twists and turns were disorienting. He didn’t remember how far he’d gone after he’d left his house. His mother had gone out for a quick errand, but he’d waited for an hour, and when she still hadn’t returned, he’d decided to go out looking for her.

“It was a month after mother and I settled in Kibera. I was ten, I think. We moved to Nairobi to start a new life. And we found this house in the neighborhood — it looked like all the other houses.” Capheus chuckled. “I could never recognize it from the street. There wasn’t even a door number.”

“Yes, that would’ve helped.”

“It would,” he agreed. “At night the street lights didn’t work so well. Sometimes the lightbulbs were broken, so you can barely see the road, let alone who’s who.”

It was the first time Capheus had gone out alone after dark, and after ten minutes he was lost. He’d remembered passing by a barbecue place, but he’d circled around the block and couldn’t find it again. Instead he’d stumbled upon two older boys sitting on the front steps of a barbershop, smoking cigarettes. Before he could turn away — mama told him not to talk to strangers — one of the boys stood up and walked over, towering over Capheus.

“There were these scary people. Teenagers, I think, I don’t know. They asked me if I was lost. And they followed me when I walked away. So I ran.”

She nodded for him to continue, eyes widening in apprehension. 

“They chased me for a while. I don’t know how long. I lost them after I turned a few corners, but I had to find somewhere to hide. And there was this trapdoor on the ground, and it was unlocked, so I climbed in.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time. The perfect hiding spot. Capheus had climbed down the steps and squatted below, squinting to try and make out the view outside from the small slit of the trapdoor. The space was cramped, filled with abandoned furnitures and metal scraps, but it was safer than being out in the open.

“I thought I was safe. But someone grabbed me from behind by the collar of my shirt. They were poking at my back with something — I thought it was a gun.” At Kiira’s horrified look, he broke into a grin. “It was _Jela_. Holding a broken piece of pipe.”

Kiira’s expression changed into one between amusement and disbelief. He imagine she’d made her childhood friends under much different circumstances.

 _The fuck you doing here, shithead?_ Jela had asked. Capheus turned around and stared at the boy who spoke like one of the drunk men who’d fight outside the bar near in his old home in Kiambu County. Jela’s hair was in cornrows, and he wore an oversized jacket with patches and frayed sleeves. It was long enough to cover most of his cargo shorts, though his knobby knees peeked out from underneath.

 _I’m Capheus,_ was his response.

Jela cackled, mouth open wide. Capheus could make out the two gaps in his mouth where his molars had ye to emerge emerged. _Shithead, what are you doing in my secret lair?_

 _Your secret lair?_ Capheus looked around the place, cringing at the moth-eaten couches, the three-legged, overturned desk, and — was that a toolbox?

“Jela found this place that no one was using, and he turned it into a workshop,” Capheus explained. “There was a toolbox someone left there. Some metal wires… An old typewriter… He’d been trying to get that typewriter to work for months. I think he ended up making it worse. But he always did like fixing things.”

“You said Jela’s a mechanic?” she recalled from his election day photo. 

“That’s his hobby. His full time job’s with the Van Damn.”

 _You don’t break in here and insult my collection._ Jela held up the pipe again. _You can get out. Out._

 _Sorry._ Capheus raised his hands in surrender. _Uhh, nice place._

Jela snorted. _You’re a shit liar, Capheus._

Capheus shrugged in defeat. 

 _But you’re funny. You can stay._ He put the pipe aside and extended his hand. _I’m Jela._

“How did you find your way home that day?” asked Kiira.

“My mother got home not long after I left. Then she went out looking for me. I heard her calling, and Jela got out and introduced himself.”

“Sounds like Jela.”

“She liked him from the start.”

“I’m glad you met him.”

“Me too.”

Meeting Jela had made Kibera feel like home. They spent many afternoons roaming the streets, but never in the dark. His mother wouldn’t let him out after dinner after what happened that night. One day, in their lair, Jela had drawn him a map of the neighborhood to help him get around the place. 

For someone who had no art training, it was a surprisingly accurate and well-crafted sketch. Eventually Capheus learned to recognize his home and Jela’s. They looked the same as everywhere else, but he cherished them like no other place. Still, he’d kept the scrap paper with the pencil drawing in an old drawer until the marks had faded into light gray against the yellowed page. If he were to search now, he might still find the paper at the bottom of the drawer underneath old journals and opened letters.

“Our houses weren’t that far from each other’s,” said Capheus. “We would have met eventually, maybe in a more peaceful way, but it wouldn’t have made a good story.”

“I suppose not.” Kiira looked at the book on her lap again, studying the back cover with the plot synopsis. “Isn’t it odd that we find dangerous stories to be the most exciting?”

“It is. But it’s also understandable.”

“How come?”

Capheus thought about Jean Claude, about the protagonists Lito had played before the drastic change in his acting career. There was something about these heroes’ invulnerability that gave Capheus hope, even if he knew the fights couldn’t play out nearly as smoothly in real life. At least he could embody their spirit and make the best out of the fight at hand, and try not to make it his last.

“It’s not about the danger itself,” he concluded. It’s about how people get out of the danger. That’s what makes a story worth telling.”

*

“It’s late,” said Wolfgang, murmuring against Kala’s ear.

She giggled when his breath tickled her skin, but shook her head and inched closer to the beaker, stirring the ingredients with a careful hand. “Hang on.”

His hands were on her shoulder now. “It’s midnight, _schatz_.”

“I’m not finished.” She picked up some clear liquid from a sealed tube using a pipette and added three drops to the beaker, humming in content when the solution turned misty white.

“You can work on the anti-Blocker tomorrow. We’ve got time.”

With a sigh, she set down the beaker and turned to him, hovering a protective hand on her side near her injury. “But how much time do we really have? Someone in the Archipelago is going to track down Veronika’s most recent location and the date for the next attack she has planned any day now. And we know it’s going to be soon, given how she staged her previous attacks. We could be expected to fight… Tomorrow. Or the day after. Or -”

He put a hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb, pausing her in the middle of the rant. “It’s not going to be tomorrow, Kala. Even if the Archipelago contacts us, we’ll need at least another two days to plan.”

She pursed her lips, conceding. “Okay, so even if we have _three_ days, who knows how many more tests I have to run? It took me weeks, _weeks_ , to find the exact ingredients to replicate the Blockers Will got from Croome. It could take as long to find the anti-solution.”

“It won’t,” he said. And he was fully convinced. His Kala had managed to do the impossible more times than he could count. When was the last time he was so optimistic?

“And based on what we know about how BPO operates when it comes to stopping sensates, they will administer Blockers the minute they find us so we can’t communicate with each other,” she continued, fiddling with her wedding ring, “which was also my fault because I was the one who came up with the injectable form! My fault!”

“It’s not your fault.” He ran a hand through her hair. She met his eyes. 

Upon seeing his concern she smiled in reassurance. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling at you. You should sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Wolfgang was going to try invading Whispers’ mind instead of Will. A change in tactics could throw the Headhunter off. 

Wolfgang returned the smile. He wished Kala would stop putting others’ feelings above her own. “We both have a long day tomorrow.”

She stopped fiddling with her ring. With a sigh, she pulled it off her finger, frowning at the slight tan line it left on her hand. But she put it back on, shaking her head at Wolfgang in apology. It would have to stay on for now.

“We do,” she conceded. “I don’t know how the meeting will go. But I know I have to tell Rajan. Nomi’s right. There’s no other way.”

Nomi had booked her an early train to Lyon in the morning. Sun had volunteered as escort, which put Wolfgang slightly at ease. But he was much less sure about Rajan’s reaction. He knew Rajan wouldn’t hurt Kala, but there were so many ways this meeting could go, and right now they all seemed equally likely and unlikely.

Wolfgang had never been so uncertain about anything since he’d watched Kala go through her second wedding. He’d resisted his urge to stop her like he did the first time. _She’s better off without me,_ he’d tried to tell himself. _Let her be happy._  

The rest of his cluster had heard him think, but didn’t say a word. They knew it was a decision he and Kala had to make alone. And they did, right before his capture. They hadn’t changed their minds since. So there _was_ no other way.

“Doesn’t matter.” Kala seemed to have guessed what he was thinking. “I’ll tell Rajan about everything tomorrow no matter how he’ll react. I know he won’t force me to stay in the marriage — he’s not like that.”

“He’s not,” Wolfgang agreed.

“I should go to bed,” she decided. But before he made a move to scoop her up and carry her upstairs, she shook her head. “Let me run a final test, okay?”

He sat back down and watched her stir the contents in the beaker again. She typed out a few words on the open document on her laptop — a few names, most likely chemical compounds — before she pulled the stopper off another test tube and added two drops of a blue solution inside the misty liquid in the beaker. 

When she was concentrating, her brows curved into that particular frown accompanied by a slight twitch of her nose. The sight made Wolfgang’s heart beat with a new intensity. He could watch her work all day. Maybe he would. Given how much they relied on her for the final battle, she’d be in the lab a lot more once they entered the planning stage. 

He’d have to make sure she got her rest. Maybe he’d end up whisking her away to bed, the sound of her protest muffled by his smug kisses. It took all of his self-control not to give in and try to enact the scene right this second. 

He watched the blue solution sink slowly to the bottom of the beaker. A few seconds later it dissipated, fading into nonexistence amid the white. Kala smiled. 

“Is it working?” he asked softly, in case she didn’t want to be disturbed.

“All my ingredients so far seem to have the desired effect,” she said. She poured the misty solution into a clean test tube, which she sealed with a stopper, and handed him the beaker. He washed it and put it away on the drying rack. “But there’s another ingredient I haven’t identified, a crucial one. I’ve narrowed it down to three possible, fortunately very accessible compounds. I’ll have to ask Kiira to help me test all three tomorrow. Hopefully one of them will work. After that we’ll have to test it on -”

He opened his mouth to volunteer -

“Gina’s already volunteered. And Henrik. We need people who haven’t made connections with Headhunters, in case Whispers or someone else slips through.”

“That’s smart.”

“It was Kiira’s suggestion.”

“You two work well together.”

“Mm.” She turned off the laptop and wiped down the counter. He took the rack with the sealed test tubes and put it away in a cabinet. “She’s very intelligent. And she has the most unexpected ideas — it already helped so many times.”

“BPO should be afraid of both of you.” He scooped her up and let her rest her head on his left shoulder, heading for the stairs. “You’re unstoppable,” he whispered before ducking his head to peck her on the forehead.

“We can’t take all the credit,” she said, but her smirk was unmistakably proud.

*

It was around midnight when Jonas crept out of the safe house, pulling the gray hood over his head. He made his way down the alley. With its water-sodden cement and fading graffiti, the hideout looked completely abandoned from the outside — the eroded metal doors were bolted shut, and most people would not think twice before passing by. But there was a trapdoor from which one could go in and out, and for the past few days the inhabitants of the hideout had been taking turns receiving Blocker supplies from the Archipelago traders. 

Tonight was Jonas’ turn. And, after all his run-ins with BPO, he couldn’t help but feel paranoid that someone was watching. He swallowed hard before picking up his pace. The meeting place was a skate park twenty minutes’ walk away. No BPO authority would linger there for too long. Those who were there at that time of night? Wayward teenagers, most likely. They’d hardly recognize him, despite the wanted posters BPO had made of him in every news program in the country.

By the time he reached the meeting spot, the contact was already waiting for him, leaning against a pillow, sipping a glass bottle of coke. He wore a baseball cap that hid most of his face in the shadows, and a sports jacket endorsing a team Jonas couldn’t name — he hadn’t stayed in Chicago long enough to recognize any. 

At the sight of Jonas, he nodded curtly.

Jonas stepped forward. “There is no certainty *****.” 

It was the new system the Archipelago had established after the Reciphorum contamination, a prompt-and-response system that changed every other day. The safe house refugee who’d come to the trade the night before had passed the new question to Jonas.

After a pause, the man responded with a frown, “Everything is up to chance?”

 _Fuck_. That wasn’t it. 

Jonas felt strong hands on his shoulder before he could turn and make a run for it, and the next second something warm was injected into his neck. His knees buckled. The person behind him pushed him to the ground until he knelt. 

Chuckling, the fake contact removed his baseball cap. Jonas didn’t recognize his face, but the glint of malice in his eyes was enough to convince Jonas this man and his cronies weren’t on the Archipelago’s side. He should scream. He should, though he’d opened his mouth and discovered he couldn’t get his vocal cords to work.

He should panic. But after all the running he’d done, he felt oddly at peace. Why was he at peace? A part of his brain was screaming at him to do something, _anything_. His limbs were numb. The ground didn’t seem like such a bad place to settle, come to think of it.

Jonas felt his mind drifted off somewhere intangible. The voices swarming around sounded blissfully content. Not that he paid attention to what they were saying. All that mattered at the moment was -

Sleep. Sleep would be good. He was tired. Exhausted. All day he’d been — didn’t matter what he did. He wanted to pass out. It was tempting to lie down on the ground, but someone was hauling him. His vision was blurry. 

It was getting harder and harder to fight the pull of his eyelids, so he closed his eyes.

Before Jonas drifted off into a deep sleep, he felt a chill in his mind. The sharpness of it made his muscles twitch. He knew the person was searching for something. Or was it someone? A few images drifted by the wobbling black space that encompassed his consciousness, his own memories fading into the background. Jonas couldn’t recognize anything he was seeing or hearing. It was like looking at the world through a monitor with no emotions attached. 

License plates. An ID card or two. A few names. None of which were his.

 _Veronika sends her regards,_ said the voice of his mind-invader, crisp, callous, unforgiving in its calmness.

Whispers had found him at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** The prompt-and-response system was inspired by Harry Potter. The quote Jonas was testing came from V for Vendetta: _“There is no certainty, only opportunity.”_
> 
> BEFORE YOU GO! I spent part of my NaNoWriMo beta-ing an awesome Sense8 post-canon fic by my friend Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr), which will be featured in the "A Candle for the Caribbean" Charity Fanfiction Collection to help the victims of Hurricane Maria. 
> 
> THERE ARE FICS FROM MANY FANDOMS in the collection, which will be published ON DECEMBER 7th. Please consider making a donation. IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE! 
> 
> All the info is on @loveinpanem's blog on tumblr so I won't elaborate. But basically, you can donate to a number of charities and email the receipt of your donation and get an e-copy of the collection, which will have OVER THIRTY FICS. And then you can read your heart out. <3


	26. Something good and beautiful (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfgang sees more of Whispers' past, and Kala comes clean to Rajan.
> 
> “You have something good and beautiful hidden inside of you. Just as I have something dark and wicked inside me.”  
> — From S2E1, “Happy F*cking New Year”
> 
> **TW for depictions of abuse.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: there exists a charity fanfiction collection, "A Candle for the Caribbean", which includes one awesome Sense8 post-canon fic by Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr). Donate to help the victims of Hurricane Maria, and get your e-copy. Lots of great fics from many fandoms. For more info, check out @loveinpanem's blog on tumblr

******July 31, 2017**

“Do congratulate Mr Gorski on his engagement, Wolfgang.”

In the brief minute it took for Wolfgang’s Blocker to wear off this morning, he must have forgotten to clear his mind to shield it against the likes of Whispers. Wolfgang suppressed the urge to kick himself. He kept his expression blank. Slowly, he turned around to face the Headhunter. He hadn’t interacted face-to-face with Whispers since his torture, and he was pleasantly surprised to see dark rings around the older man’s bloodshot eyes. 

His cluster would be pleased to hear Whispers was looking worse for wear. Though he was surprised the Headhunter was reaching out. He was usually so meticulous with his Blockers, fucking coward that he was. It could just be one of his tricks. Or it could be bad news. The last time he did that was with Will, when he showed him the execution -

Wolfgang’s consciousness shifted from the bedroom he shared with Kala to wherever Whispers might be.

White walls, white marble tiles, the beeping of a heart monitor. This wasn’t the bedroom he shared with Kala. He saw himself perched on a stool next to Whispers, who stared ahead, his thin lips curled into a sneer. Wolfgang followed Whispers’ gaze to see what made the man so ecstatic, he’d drawn Wolfgang _to_ him. 

And his eyes landed on the unconscious form of Jonas, slumped and bound against the reclining chair.

 _Fuck_.

“I’m certain Jonas will be willing to cooperate when he comes to.”

Wolfgang scoffed. “You sure about that?”

“My colleagues and I have developed a new means of coercion. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Reciphorum, our latest invention,” said Whispers. “I would expect Mrs Rasal to have discovered the exact ingredients by now.”

Whispers was bringing up Kala’s name to get a rise out of him. And, against Wolfgang’s better judgement, it was working. In an attempt to clear his mind of the memory of Kala and Sun leaving on a train to Lyon, he focused his gaze on Jonas, the fucking traitor who’d kept secrets from them without consulting their judgement. Jonas thought he knew best. Wolfgang always hated this self-entitlement.

Wolfgang heard a dull throbbing in his mind, like a too-strong heartbeat after he’d exerted himself running from cops after a robbery, Felix alternating between wheezing and swearing beside him. He pushed the image of his friend out of his mind and focused on the anger fists clenching. 

They would’ve gotten to Whispers a long time ago if it weren’t for Jonas. He wouldn’t have been fucking captured. His cluster wouldn’t have had to make all these sacrifices to save him and sacrifice their lives for a war they didn’t sign up for.

The only time Jonas had helped at all was when he’d explained his deal with Veracity. Even then it was under the prompting of their then-mystery guest Mavis. Of course, there was the memory loop practice, and all those times Jonas talked about his past. About Angelica’s past. About BPO’s new murder weapons, like the Reciphorum.

But who knew if he was telling the truth then?

 _Fuck Jonas_.

They wouldn’t be safe once Jonas woke. He’d seen their interrogations. It’d broken him twice, and he was used to pain. That was, _if_ Jonas tried to defy his interrogators at all — he could’ve easily turned them all over to save his own neck. 

They’d have to relocate. But that could be easily arranged. 

“Perhaps you could spare me the effort, Wolfgang,” came Whispers’ voice, too close to his ear. The man was learning over him now, his deadly gaze boring into Wolfgang. 

The interrogation room was fading from view, the whites of the wall and the tiles turning into light gray, dark gray, black… Black. Without windows, the bedroom he shared with Kala was pitch black. Neither of them minded the darkness.

His hand reached for the bedside lamp, and Kala stirred beside him. 

 _Jonas_ , he thought to himself, repeating it over and over until the mantra sunk in. _Jonas did this. Whispers wouldn’t have come to gloat if it weren’t for him._

_Traitor. Traitor. Fucking traitor._

This was the last time his cluster would have anything to do with Jonas. 

Wolfgang detected a hint of something from the corner of his mind surrounded by ice, a souvenir of the times Whispers tried to break through his mind during an interrogation, the shards cutting deep, leaving permanent scars. There was the sound of ice crackling underneath the surface of Whispers’ presence, like a deep-seated memory trying to burst through. Wolfgang focused on the crackling sound, which grew louder. 

Whispers’ breath hitched as Wolfgang’s hands settled on the lamp switch per his command, but Wolfgang willed his consciousness away from his physical body, forcing his hand back. He closed his eyes and imagined his mind gravitating closer to the cold. With a raised fist he pummeled through the layer of ice, expecting the shards to cut his skin. In his bedroom, he punched the air, and his fist landed back on his lap. But back in the mind he shared with the Headhunter, his hand collided with hard surface, the frost sending tingles up his arm.

Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes and found himself in the darkness surrounded by an ice wall. The part of the wall he punched was retracting under Whispers’ command, trying to draw away from the invasion. He punched the ice again with a newfound fervor and imagined it was Whispers’ face, and the ice was flesh and bone, capable of breaking. The crackling grew louder, and the sharp corners where the ice broke made small cuts on his knuckles, stinging his skin. 

Which meant he had found an opening.

A manicured hand on Wolfgang’s shoulder halted him in his tracks, trying to pull him back. He drew energy from his anger, anger at the Headhunter who dared to hurt his cluster, and he stayed gravitated on the spot. From the hole on the wall came the sound of a horse neighing, of hooves thumping against grass. And something else, another sound that gave him a pause until he remembered Whispers’ hand on his shoulder.

A child’s laughter.

The air from the other side of the ice wall felt warm. A faint smell of flowers Wolfgang couldn’t name permeated through the warm breeze. Wolfgang closed his eyes again and willed his consciousness to float towards the memory. He wanted to stay. He had to.

 _Neville, stop!_ said the child, still laughing. Colors swarmed into view until the landscape unfolded before Wolfgang’s eyes. The horse and its rider passed by in front of him — a boy saddled on a chestnut horse, galloping across the field. _You’re going too fast! Stop!_

 _Milton!_ called a grown man’s voice. It was stern, but something else about it made Wolfgang swallow hard, something malicious. Something familiar. 

 _I said not to disturb me when I’m working. Milton!_ the man was bellowing now.

The memory shifted to a dimly lit study with boarded windows. The wind howled outside, but the middle-aged man paid it no mind. The man, fully dressed in a suit and tie, light brown hair neatly combed, stood from his desk and bore down at a slightly older Milton, who sat on the other side, his hand gripping a hardcover journal.

He slammed the journal on the desk, and Milton — _and_ Wolfgang — flinched.

 _Is this how you spent your time?_ shouted the man. He opened the journal and tore out a couple pages, pages filled with childlike writing. _Dawdling away like some idle fool?_

 _Father, I was -_ Milton mumbled, barely audible as his father continued yelling. _It’s - I was -_

 _Louder,_ demanded his father, walking past his desk to turn his chair around. He grabbed Milton by the collar and pulled him up so they were both standing, towering over his son. Wolfgang felt the young Milton cower under his relentless blue-eyed glare. _Go on, then! Don’t stand there mumbling like a bloody coward._

 _I-It’s just writing!_ Milton said louder, his voice shaking.

 _No._ His father shoved the rest of the journal back, pushing it against his chest. _You were ungrateful. I’ve read it all -_ he grabbed the loose pages from where they sat on his desk and flung it in the air above his son. _Complaining about me, were you? Complaining about Neeeville_

The jeering tone of his father’s voice made Milton’s insides boil. 

It triggered something in Wolfgang, too. A deep-buried loathing. Wolfgang curled his fist, and around him, the scene started fading. He felt a chill creep up his spine. ( _Enough now, Wolfgang,_ he heard Whispers say, his tone more irritated than worried.)

 _Wh-why’d you lock him up?_ asked Milton, his voice growing faint. 

But the anger was unmistakable, a quiet rage suppressed by fear, not unlike the times Wolfgang glared back at his father’s eyes during a beating and imagined himself hitting back twice as hard. He gritted his teeth and channeled the anger, feeling the unforgiving heat course through his veins. The chill faded from his mind.

Milton’s father responded with a sneer.

 _You’re keeping him prisoner!_ he shouted, mustering all his courage in an impulse.

_I’m keeping him ‘till the doctor can put him down!_

_You’re a murderer!_

That was his first mistake. His father lurched forward and grabbed him by the collar. Milton screamed. His father pushed until his back hit the side of a bookshelf in the study with a thump. Wolfgang felt the boy’s pain. The pain that would grow into a bruise. 

 _Insolent,_ growled his father. _You do not talk to me like this. You -_

Milton sniffled, clutching his journal tighter around his chest like an armor. 

That was his second mistake. His father snatched the journal away and flung it back, and snickered when he heard a thud against the wall. He smeared Milton’s tears away with a rough hand, then let go of his grip on Milton’s collar and yanked him forward by his chin, fingers crushing the muscles on his neck.

 _Weak,_ he snarled. _What did I say about crying?_

_You’re k-killing Neville._

_He’s getting old._ His father let go of his chin. Milton stumbled back, hitting the shelf again. _I’ve no use for an old horse._

_You’re a murderer._

Wolfgang wanted to see where he was going, but he felt the chill coming back. The scene faded from view until he found his consciousness back in the interrogation room. Frowning, he concentrated on the thoughts Headhunter’s mind. The memory was still fresh on Whispers’ mind, but the rage had subsided, leaving only a faint echo of voices from a dead man, the emotions long forgotten.

“Ironic,” said Wolfgang, looking between Whispers and Jonas.

When the Headhunter spoke again, his voice was lower, raspier. “Do elaborate.”

Back in his bedroom, Wolfgang reached for the bottle of Blockers sitting on his nightstand and twisted the lid open. “You turned out just like him.”

*

They met at a street corner cafe on the outskirts of Lyon. She’d arrived fifteen minutes early to find Rajan already waiting. As soon as their eyes met she felt a tightness in her chest. He seemed to have lost weight, and there were dark circles under his eyes. She wondered how much of his tiredness was from being worried about her. 

When he saw her, he smiled and stood up from the booth he’d saved. To her relief he’d chosen a quiet spot at the back, somewhere she could talk without being overheard, her secrets muffled by the hustle and bustle of the late morning customers.

“You look pale, Kala. Are you okay?”

“I’m -” She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t lie. “We should sit.”

If he was surprised, he did well in hiding it. “Of course.”

He slid back into his seat as Kala settled herself in the opposite chair, gripping the edge of the table to help herself sit. The cut at her side wasn’t noticeably painful anymore — Miki was getting the stitches out tomorrow with instruction from the sensate doctor — but it still stung when she moved. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning forward. “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

For a second she wondered why he’d think that. But that wasn’t why she was there. “It’s fine, Rajan,” she said instead. _Just a bruise._  

No, that would have been a lie. 

“I’m fine,” she repeated, offering a reassuring smile.

“If you’re not -” he looked around, paranoid. It reminded Kala of what her cluster-mates did whenever they travelled to a new place, searching around for potential eavesdroppers. “If Paris isn’t to your liking,” he amended, “you can come home. We’ve arranged a new home.”

“We?”

He nodded slowly, eyes wide. 

“Oh.” He and Agent Singh had most likely found another safe house for her to hide out, while he negotiated with the likes of Ajay. “You told me to trust you,” she remembered. “Back home. You said I needed to go to Paris, for you. You said you’d explain later.”

She didn’t know why she was remembering this now, or why she suddenly wanted so much to know the truth behind his business when she intended to reveal hers.

“I don’t know if this is the right place to tell,” said Rajan.

“Never mind,” she said, before she could find another reason to stall. “That’s not why I wanted to - why we -” _stalling isn’t gonna make it any easier,_ she imagined Nomi saying, painfully aware of the silence inside her Blocked mind.

“Then what is it you wish to tell me?”

It was easier to show him, so she did, pulling out the files Nomi had printed the day before. She started with the factual and anatomical sides of her sensacity — the merged frontal lobes as a result of the rebirth, the migraines, synesthesia and hallucinations, and a company hunting down her kind to build an army. He listened, not saying a word. It wasn’t until she’d started describing the nature of her connection with her cluster, something, for once, pure scientific terms couldn’t justify, that she told Rajan about Wolfgang.

Kala told Rajan, clumsily, in-between near-inaudible rambles and stutters, she was seeing another man. And she was sort of — no, definitely — in love. With Wolfgang. _Had been_ for a long time, even when she’d tried to convince herself her second thoughts on marrying Rajan were done. And Wolfgang was in love with her, too. 

“It wasn’t - I tried not to…” the staccato of her heart thumping rapidly in her chest marked out her punctuations. “…How do you avoid someone in your own head? How do you avoid loving someone that knows you as well as yourself?”

From the bobbing of his throat and the frown that sprung up as soon as the word “loving” had been uttered, she knew he’d heard everything. 

He avoided her gaze, and said nothing.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Rajan.”

Nothing.

For a long time he was silent, pouring over the brain scans, the personal files on some of the higher-up _sapiens_ , even news articles covering the latest acts of terrorism around the world, the ones caused by the supposed “epigenetic mutation” proposed by a Dr Andreas Thorsten. She watched him open his mouth several times without making a sound, before he shook his head, pursing his lips again. 

He lingered on the page with Veronika’s biography longer than the others. Strange. There wasn’t much information Nomi and Bug could pull up, only a date of birth, a nationality; an old school record or two. The Russian had hidden her records quite well. But then, she did explain this woman was the evil mastermind behind BPO.

Now was hardly the time to dwell.

Kala wanted to say she was sorry. That wouldn’t have been a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She was sorry for breaking Rajan’s heart; never for falling in love with Wolfgang.

“Does he make you happy?” he asked finally, voice shaking.

“He does.”

He exhaled slowly, before looking up from the files in his hands. “I’m happy you’re happy,” he said. His eyes seemed to say, _even if it’s not with me._

“I haven’t told my parents, but I will,” she found herself confessing. Saying it made it harder to back out on the promise. Nomi could find a way to contact them. But now -

Her fingers tugged on the ring, slowly, taking in the sight of the silver band around her finger before taking it off. She dropped it in his outstretched palms, her finger accidentally brushing against his skin. Neither of them let the touch linger. He tucked the ring away in the pocket of his suit. 

“The divorce will take some time,” he said a little louder, eyes fixed on the salt and pepper shakers on the table. “A year, maybe. Or more. Probably more.” The last part came out somewhat forcefully, like he was biting back a retort. “I’ll have to consult my lawyer.”

“I haven’t been faithful,” she said, in case he didn’t catch it the first time. “You did nothing wrong. It was all me.”

“Kala, I -”

“Tell the truth,” she said. “It’d be easier that way.” She nodded at the folder beneath the files Rajan was sifting through. “It’s all in there. The evidence.”

“You won’t be able to come home.”

“I know.” Her voice was shaking from exhaustion more than fear. The emotional turmoil of the past few weeks was starting to take its toll.

“Are you staying at ou- the flat in Paris?” he quickly amended.

 _Our flat._ She shook her head, pretending not to notice. “Somewhere else.”

A flash of something dark like jealousy crossed his eyes before he looked away, swallowing hard. She looked at her hands until she knew he’d held back his tears. She knew he wanted to ask if she was staying with Wolfgang. But he didn’t press. Instead, he asked, waving the folder, “These people… A-are you sure you’re safe?”

“We are.”

“We -” he paused for a few seconds, before nodding abruptly - “right. Well, I -”

“It’s okay, Rajan,” she found herself saying. “I’ll be okay.”

“Me, too,” he says, unblinking.

They couldn’t find a reason to stay in the cafe after that. He got up, and she did the same, hiding her wince as she tried not to pull on her stitches too much. There was no need to worry Rajan more, not when the matter was out of his hands. He opened the door for her when they exited. They stopped on the sidewalk.

“You’ll tell me when this is over?” he asked, glancing furtively around once more, like he was expecting someone to be listening in. “So my lawyer can…”

“I’ll call you,” she promised. 

“Be safe.” There was a hesitation to his voice, something she couldn’t place. It reminded her of the guilt she’d experienced every time he’d called. But perhaps she was projecting; there was no reason for him to feel guilty about this.

With a last nod, he turned around and made his way down the street. She walked the opposite way. She thought about turning around, to see if he was watching her walk away, but she shook her head with a rigor, picked up her pace and crossed the street before walking down the steps of the metro stop. She ignored the buzzing in her head she couldn’t attribute to the Blockers wearing off, not for another - 

She checked the burner in her purse and was surprised to see it was one in the afternoon. When she was in the café, time passed by agonizingly slowly. Now it felt like she was in and out of there too quick, with no time to dwell on what she’d said. What she’d told. What she couldn’t take back.

Sun was waiting for her on the platform. For a second Kala was surprised Sun was in Lyon — she had all but forgotten Sun was keeping a close watch on her. Sun didn’t say a word when Kala approached, but patted her on the shoulder firmly, a knowing look in her eyes.

The train came within minutes. She sat down and closed her eyes, hands clasped tightly on top of her lap. As the doors closed and the train jerked into motion, something heavy lifted off her chest. She exhaled and imagined the weight dissipating into the stifled underground air, vanishing without a way back to her.

She was free.

*

That evening, when the buzzing in Kareem’s head ceased, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the presence of his protégée. Before his Blocker had worn off just now, he’d heard Mavis’ voice in their shared mind, mumbling thoughts he couldn’t yet decipher. 

“Jus’ holler when you’re done, ‘aight?” Stanley patted him on the shoulder before leaving for the small cramped kitchen ten steps away.

They’d moved from the Chicago hideout after Jonas had failed to return. Kareem had wanted to go out and look for him, but his legs couldn’t carry him too far these days, after the bloody number the Headhunters did on him. And everyone at their safe house had agreed to the protocol: if someone wasn’t back in ninety minutes after the Blocker trade, they relocate without them.

“Oh, Wolfgang’s got the memo. Milt creeped into his head this morning,” Mavis said, appearing next to Kareem on the blow-up mattress. “But thanks, anyway. And hi.”

Despite everything, Kareem chuckled. It had only been a month and so since he’d last seen her after he’d volunteered to be turned in. Mavis’ voice was unmistakably hers, but remarkably different from the last time he’d communicated with her in their minds after her shift at BPO had ended, the night before she joined forces with the August 8 cluster.

“I see you’ve managed to track my thoughts fairly quickly. Good work.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure you’re not, you know, _dead_?”

He shrugged. Considering everything, that was more than a warranted concern. 

“You’ve been Blocked too,” she said. “I can kinda hear you before I take my Blockers. Been a few days.” She looked around his hideout. “I’m guessing Jonas came to your rescue?”

“Guess he didn’t wanna leave me to rot.”

“Wish he’d done that with us.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, life would’ve been easier if he’d told us about Lila’s cluster and Angelica and all that sensate-siblings thing. But _no_ , apparently making a run for it was the way to go.”

“That’s Jonas for you. Always thinks he knows best.”

Mavis hummed, still annoyed. Then she frowned and asked, “You think they’re gonna pry it out of him? Our location and all that?”

“They’ll try. Jonas should hold them off for a few days. But remember to relocate,” Kareem reminded her, “soon as you can.”

Considering the stakes of having Jonas back in interrogation, relocation was more than necessary. And Kareem sure wasn’t about to let the August 8 cluster find themselves in jeopardy when they were so close to finding Veronika and those Headhunter cronies she hid behind. They may be his only chance to get back at Milton for his crimes against Ismael. 

Mavis’ posture froze for a few seconds. Then she turned and said, “Just told the cluster. They’re on it. Gonna be hard with so many of us, though. Maybe we’ll have to split.”

“Have you sorted out a way to communicate?”

“We got hackers. We’ll manage.”

Kareem nodded in approval. “How’s the preparation going?”

“We’ve got leads. And information. And explosives. And basically a mini-army with all the skills you can get. The Archipelago’s helping out, too. So… expect an epic victory.”

“And bloodshed,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

He thought about the last time he’d seen his brother. It was the day before he’d left to see Dr El-Saadawi. And he’d promised to return in a fortnight. 

His return came in the form of ashes in a tightly sealed metallic urn, anonymously addressed. Kareem had scattered the ashes along the Nile, near the shore where they used to row, and vowed for revenge against the man who’d murdered his brother in cold blood.

Mavis had heard what he said, nonetheless. “Yeah, bloodshed,” she echoed. A dark look crossed her eyes. In their minds, Kareem saw a glimpse of Morgan shooting himself to death, and the gray eyes of Karl Pelzer. “We’ll get him. We’ll get _all_ of them.”

“I never doubted that.” 

He patted her on the shoulder. “But take care of yourself, alright? You and Kiira.”

Mavis smirked. “We’ll try.”

The next second she was gone. A minute later he heard a buzzing in his head, before the voices that sounded like Mavis faded altogether. With a groan, he reached for the Blockers by his mattress and the bottle of water, and cringed as the familiar bland pill made its way down his throat. His mind felt empty without his connections, but it was a necessary evil for the sake of discretion. 

If all went well, he wouldn’t have to be stay this for much longer. It was a pity he wouldn’t be there to witness Mavis’ allies put a bullet through Milton’s head. But the Headhunter’s death would be the next best thing.

*

Nomi typed away on her laptop during the first shift, hoping to track down the well-hidden information of the people at the top of the BPO chain. Hernando found himself entranced by the figures popping up on the screen, the rhythm of her fingers tapping against the keys.

Nomi looked up from her laptop. “You tired?” she asked.

“It’s difficult to sleep uninterrupted when you know you’re in danger,” he said, completely evading the topic he wanted to confront.

She chuckled. “I think cabin fever’s getting to us all.”

Cabin fever. That was a cleverly named terminology. Though it wasn’t entirely true -- it wasn’t the fact that they had to stay inside that made them reckless. It was what they had to do once they were forced to get _out_. “I’m more scared of what comes after.”

Now that the reminder of their predicament was a constant, Hernando was finding it harder to have a serious conversation about a topic unrelated to BPO and Veronika and Headhunters. He’d been meaning to Nomi about… everything. But how did one go about thanking their partner’s cluster-mate for being there for him when Hernando wasn’t?

“Uncertainty’s always stress-inducing like that,” Nomi agreed. 

Hernando looked at her screen: there were countless tabs open, and the windows overlapped, including documents filled with with codes and abbreviations he could not decipher. Resourcefulness had been their advantage in this fight. With that, came a better ability to make informed decisions. And with _that_ , came a relative certainty compared to other sensates. All this, and the unlikeliness of the identities of some of Lito’s cluster — namely, Lito himself — exponentially increased their chance of success.

“You’ve managed to eliminate the uncertainty well,” Hernando said, after a pause.

Nomi typed in a few more commands. The photo of a middle-aged man in a suit popped up on the screen. “Part of why I got into hacking.”

He pushed up his glasses. “Oh?”

“I like finding answers.”

Lito had told him about Nomi’s past. The general facts, that was. There appeared to be a secret agreement among the cluster not to divulge too-personal details of anyone’s past to _sapien_ allies like himself. Perhaps Nomi’s hacking stemmed from her personal journey of understanding, growing up. There was something empowering about acquiring knowledge through any means, legal or otherwise. Being in the know had its perks, one of which was the satisfaction that came with sharing the truth with others.

“The discovery process can be quite rewarding,” he agreed. “It’s why I got into art history. It gave me a new perspective.”

“Your version of truth?” 

“It’s my way of understanding the truth, as told by what the artist chose to present.”

They were going back and forth. As stimulating as this conversation was, Hernando would have preferred to have it at a more peaceful time, in some café by a museum in California on a Sunday afternoon. He’d been meaning to tell Nomi what he’d wanted to say since Lito first told him about all the help she’d given. Now that they were discussing art, it seemed an appropriate time.

“On our flight here,” he started, changing the topic before he could ramble on about truths and presentation and the limitation of a purely visual medium of expression. “Lito told me you helped him. When he was… making a major decision about his career. And Dani.”

Nomi smiled. “He was at the Diego Rivera Museum. That was where he went to think.”

Hernando quirked an eyebrow. “Really? I thought he didn’t care for museums. He says they’re too quiet.”

“Mm. Sounds like Lito.”

“It does.” He chuckled. “I took him to another museum on our second date. He whined about it the whole way.”

Nomi frowned. “He likes when you talk about art.”

The validation from someone who could hear Lito’s thoughts brought a smile to Hernando’s face. After staying with the cluster for more than a month, Hernando had grown used to people knowing more about his partner than himself. it did feel nice to have someone to share his woes with. 

“Well, he liked it after I convinced him to sit still and listen to my commentary.”

Lito used to joke Hernando was a walking audio guide. After that time, they’d spent all their future dates in art museums around Mexico City. Most of these dates consisted of Lito pointing to the most abstract pieces of art, asking for his “professional judgement”.

“See, that’s something only you can do,” said Nomi. She typed in a few more codes, prompting the system to run automatically, and put her laptop on the coffee stand in front of them, freeing up her legs. “You’re a good influence.”

“You too,” he said. “Nomi, thank you for helping him come to a decision.”

“I think he knew all along what he needed to do. He was scared.”

“I know, but I… Thank you, Nomi. I didn’t want to lose him. I never would’ve broken up with him, but after the - the situation with Dani, I had to -”

“You did what you must,” she finished for him.

He nodded yes. “He did, too.”

“I know it’s harder for the three of you. I hope what I said didn’t make you do something you weren’t prepared to do.”

He thought about it. “I don’t think I’d ever be fully prepared. I don’t know about Lito. But what he did? I think it was good for his career. Even if for a few days we thought that was it. Or he wouldn’t have gotten into a Kit Wrangler movie.”

“That’s true.” She smiled wistfully. 

Interesting. Hernando wondered if Lito’s temperaments always affected his cluster when the connections weren’t Blocked, because they seemed to know everything about Lito. The thought of someone like Sun sobbing her eyes out made him snort.

Nomi gave him a quizzical look.

“Did you all feel it?” he asked. “When he was upset?”

“The emotion affected all of us. But not as strongly as it did to him personally.”

“Hmm.” He supposed it made sense. Connection or not, a feeling should logically be strongest at its original source. Personal attachment was the major factor.

“He does the same for us, too,” said Nomi.

“That time in the car,” Hernando mumbled, remembering. At her confused look, he added, “When he told me about the crying Korean woman. He was in her place? Emotionally?”

Nomi laughed. “Yeah. He’s an emotional outlet for a lot of us.”

Judging by how Lito was _before_ his migraines had started, this connection was going to make him burst with the sheer amount of feelings. Hernando imagined Lito screaming with eight times the intensity at once, and cringed.

“He wouldn’t experience every emotion,” Nomi explained. “Just when we need it most.”

“I suppose not everyone is as… _expressive_ as Lito.”

They exchanged a smirk. “So far he’s top of the list in terms of expressiveness for me,” said Nomi. “I’m sorry you’ll have to live with, well -”

“It’s no problem.” Hernando shrugged. “I survived his tantrums before.” 

He wondered how many of Lito’s antics over the past year came from experiences outside of his own life. But this was _Lito_. He reacted to everything with that intensity. Not that Hernando complained — the passion was what drawn him to the actor in the first place — but when Lito had a hard time calming down? It could get a little taxing.

“Most of his emotions are still his,” Nomi agreed. “But occasionally he might… react, for no apparent reason. Like that day in the car, with Sun.”

“Now I’ll be able to tell.” He sighed. “I kind of miss it.”

“The tantrums?”

“The tantrums,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s frustrating. But now I have an explanation, and these days Lito’s still Lito but he’s so -” frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, nudging up his glasses further - “ _different_. Especially after Beijing, now that he’s on Blockers all the time.”

“It’s pretty isolating after you’ve been used to having all these voices. Like a part of your mind isn’t responding.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t know how it felt to lose a connection he’d never had, but he could imagine the emptiness. He’d felt that after he’d broken up with Lito.

“I miss the connection,” she confessed. “I know we all do.”

“You’ll get it back,” Hernando found himself saying. That was a first; he’d always been on the optimistic side, but pep talks were far from his area of expertise. “I mean -” he gestured at her laptop, where the system Nomi had opened was still searching for information on the _sapiens_ automatically under her command - “Lito says you’re the best hacker there is.”

“Me? I’m far from the best.”

“You hacking’s saved us a lot of times, Nomi,” he said matter-of-factly. “And everyone else has a special power, too. With the fighting, and the -” he couldn’t believe he was saying this - “the _explosions_.”

“Lito told you about Kala’s explosions?”

“Every night before we go to sleep.” Hernando said in mock annoyance. “In great detail.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “Sounds like Lito.”

“Lito’s lucky to have a cluster like this.”

“We’re lucky to have him, too.”

“I’m still new to this _Homo sensorium_ revelation,” Hernando told her, “but if there’s anyone who can overthrow an organization of power-hungry sensates and _sapiens_? I think your cluster has a good chance.”

“We do,” Nomi agreed. “Let’s hope so.”

*

Wolfgang slept fitfully, stirring in their bed. The motion roused Kala from her half-awake state and pulled her away from a dream. She heard a faint buzzing in the back of her mind, echoes of voices drifting closer. The alarm clock said 2:30 A.M., and her next Blocker dose wasn’t due for another half hour. 

She frowned. Had her body been so acclimatized to the pills already? What would this mean if she had to stay on them for another month, or more? 

“Please,” Wolfgang mumbled, whimpering. “ _Please_.”

“Wolfgang.” She edged closer to him and buried her head in his neck, hoping her presence was calming. “Wolfgang, you’re safe. You’re safe.”

The buzzing in her mind ceased.

If she listened carefully, she could hear the sound of water, of a wooden instrument thumping against something metallic. She could also make out a woman’s voice, a voice that sounded like Wolfgang’s mother in his earlier memories.

His mother spoke, but Kala couldn’t hear her words. Then her voice grew louder. Then she was sobbing. Wolfgang trembled from the memory.

_Please, Anton, please -_

Kala heard a plate shattering. Wolfgang sat up with a jolt, eyes still closed, his consciousness gliding between wakefulness and sleep. She said his name and reached out to him, but Wolfgang scrambled away as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin.

_Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you!_

It was his father’s voice. Kala froze. Wolfgang hugged his knees close to his chest in a fetal position, balling their blanket with tightened fists.

She knew better than to try and rouse him from a nightmare when he was resisting physical contact. But the painful echoes in their shared minds reminded Kala that there was another way. A way to wake him from within.

Kala closed her eyes and let the memory take over.

The image formed around the darkness of her mind, solidifying into the kitchen she recalled from Wolfgang’s earlier memories. Wolfgang’s mother cowered in a corner next to the kitchen drawers. Next to her, on the ground, were pieces of a shattered plate. 

 _You hear?!_ bellowed his father. 

His mother reached behind her back and winced, pulling out a broken piece of china between her back and the furniture, the corners smeared with blood. His father grabbed her by the sides of her ribs and pulled her forward. She wheezed, choking between sobs.

When he let go again and slammed her hard against the floor behind her where the rest of the broken pieces had fallen, Kala noticed his fingertips were stained red. 

 _Stop!_ she cried out. Her voice came out different, like a child’s voice — Wolfgang’s voice — hoarse from screaming. Kala found herself standing in the room now, inhabiting her own body, an addition to the memory that had wormed its way into Wolfgang’s nightmare. Anton Bogdanow turned to her with a sneer, eyes glinting madly. 

Logically Kala knew he couldn’t have touched her. But when a memory was combined with a nightmare, her sensate mind had a way of playing tricks on her perception. In this instance everything felt real. Kala was there, she was trembling under the yellowed kitchen lights, and she could feel the heat from the oven and the sound of the kettle boiling. The sobs escaped from her own throat, and a sharp pain jabbed at her back. Blood was seeping from her cuts, soaking through the fabric of her shirt. 

Anton grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her back. She fell against the ground, her cuts scraping against the tiles, and for a second she couldn’t see. A whimper escaped, and tears dribbled into her mouth, a salty taste mixed with the tang of blood. This time Kala sounded like herself.

She blinked more tears out of her eyes. White dots flickered in and out of her vision, each one bringing a sharp pain to the back of her head. The man in front of her crouched down, pulling her up by the collar with a bloodied hand.

When she tilted her chin up, it wasn’t Anton’s eyes that Kala saw. It was Wolfgang’s.

They locked eyes for a second before he let go, and she hit the ground again.

Pain echoed through her body, little fragments of memories coursing through her veins. She convulsed with the full force of fear mixed with agony before blacking out altogether. When she came to, she was back in the bed she shared with Wolfgang. He wasn’t curled into a ball anymore. He looked at her, and back at his hands, and back at her, scrambling away, eyes burdened with shame.

“Wolfgang!” she called out. She didn’t know how loud she was. Her voice sounded like it was far away, crouching in some distant corner of their shared mind hidden by the darkness.

Then Kala was in Wolfgang's body, looking down at his hands. His fingertips were stained with blood — some dried, some fresh. From his eyes, her nightgown was soaked red, and she was lying on their bed, glassy-eyed, unmoving.

Someone was sobbing, someone close enough for her to reach. It took a second for her to realize it was Wolfgang. The last time he’d cried was at his key shop a year ago, pressing a ball of fabric into Felix’s chest, begging his brother to stay.

Kala felt her consciousness shift back in her own body. She scooted forward and kneeled beside him, her hands hovering by his shoulder. Slowly, she reached out. 

He froze when her hands made contact with his clammy skin. 

She pulled him closer, ignoring the dull pain from the healing cut on her side. “Wolfgang,” she said again, softly. “Wolfgang, look at me.”

After a second’s pause, he obliged. The sight of his tears made her chest ache, the pain reminiscent of his torture — paddles pulsing against his chest, fists pummeling against a never-fading bruise. “’M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Look at me,” she said again, reaching for his hand. She brought his hand against her cheeks. “I’m not hurt. It was a dream, Wolfgang. Just a dream.”

A painful dream, plagued by the memories of his past.

He drew his hand away and looked at his palm again. Through his eyes, Kala saw no more blood resting on the tips of his fingers.

“You’d never hurt me.”

A look of something dark crossed his eyes, but it wasn’t directed at her. She’d come to know it as an anger Wolfgang had reserved for himself. She heard the sound of his father laughing, reverberating in the hollows of his mind, one that resurfaced every time he was faced with another memory of his past.

Wolfgang drew away again, leaning against the headboard. 

“I thought I did.” His voice was hollow. “I thought I already -”

“You didn’t,” she said. She sighed and leaned against the headboard, pulling the blanket over them both. He didn’t move away. “You wouldn’t.”

He stared straight ahead. In the depths of his memories, his father was still laughing.

Kala let the images from Wolfgang’s memories crossed their minds: the sneering faces of men who worked with his uncle, the ones he’d shot and the ones she finished off with her own explosion; his cousin, bearing down at him in the parking lot; that man his uncle had ordered him to shoot in some abandoned warehouse where the police never looked -

All the way back to his father. 

The laughing stopped, replaced by a burning sensation, of a rage coursing through his body, driving him to pull the rope against the neck of a man twice his size until he’d gone limp and collapsed against the cement. When Wolfgang looked at her again, fire was glimmering in the light blue of his eyes. A reflection of the night of his first kill.

“I’m sorry, Kala,” he grumbled.

“ _No._ Don’t ever.”

Wolfgang shook his head. Glimpses of Rajan flashed by their minds, ending with the memory of this morning he’d pulled from her. Kala saw herself walking away without turning back. She’d thought about it, but didn’t.

“I’ve made my decision, Wolfgang. We both did.” She turned to him abruptly. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, I -” He looked at his hands and shook his head. Did he still expect to see blood?

Then she saw Milton. First, the boy from the memories he’d glimpsed this morning and divulged to his cluster in the living room before lunch. Then, the images faded into the face of the Headhunter that would stop at nothing to kill. 

Wolfgang was nothing like the Headhunter, he knew, despite the demons they’d shared in their pasts. Kala knew that his nightmares, especially those fueled by the added intensity of a sensate connection, were a reflection of his fear. Over the past year she’d felt hints of his fear in their sleep, flashes of pain and rage he’d shoved away and never spoke of again. But here their physical presence amplified the feelings he’d buried deep, until they’d pounced from the depths of his memories to haunt them both.

“It was just a dream,” she repeated. She reached for the Blockers on her bedstead and the bottle of water, handing both to him. He accepted them and down the pills in a flash, like they couldn’t have come sooner. 

After she took the bottles from him and finished her own dose, she put them back and put her arm around his shoulder, looking at him sternly until he’d relented and lied back down. He turned to face the wall. She didn’t stop him, knowing he needed space, but she drew herself closer to remind him she wasn’t going anywhere.

Before the buzzing kicked in, she saw him nod.

Now that Kala had ended things with Rajan, now that there was nothing to fall back on, the demons of Wolfgang's past came spiraling back, ready to plunge him back into the darker days of his life. She wished she could banish them for good, but the roots they’d taken inside his mind ran deep. It would take time. 

She wasn't going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for leaving you all on such an angsty note. 
> 
> (Wait no, let’s face it, this chapter’s like 4/5 angst. Oops!) 
> 
> I promise the Wolfgang situation will be somewhat resolved (as resolved as it can be, anyway, what with Wolfie’s everlasting self-loathing) in part 2, with the help of a certain Hawaiian-shirted brother. I am splitting this into two parts because by the looks of things this chapter will likely exceed 15k, and that is a long way to scroll down. Plus this chapter spans two days, so day by day is a logical break-off point, I think. 
> 
> Also, it’s almost finals week, so I can’t write as much as I did in November. I have 3/5 of part 2 done but the other bits require time that I currently don’t have, haha! Part 2 should be out by next weekend. And then I take more finals and I’m flying home. So…. expect more delays. But whoo! The winter holidays is almost upon us! Which means I’ll be writing a lot faster, starting December 21st-ish.
> 
> A shoutout to LettersfromLaika, my lovely beta who came out of her university-induced hiatus to help me with the Kala and Rajan conversation because she’d tackled it in her amazing post-canon fic, “The Invisibility Trap” (read it!), and I asked her to show me her ways. If you’d read her fic (and you should!) and are wondering about the striking similarities between our versions… Well, in her words, “there are a limited number of ways that Rajan could react given the general decency of his character. Now if it were Wolfgang in his position… *gleefully thinks of the angst and bitter detachment*.” (But that would never happen, because Kalagang is life.)


	27. Something good and beautiful (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some of our heroes embark on their next journey, and Kala and Felix have a long overdue discussion about a certain Wolf. 
> 
> “You have something good and beautiful hidden inside of you. Just as I have something dark and wicked inside me.”  
> — From S2E1, “Happy F*cking New Year”
> 
> **TW for depictions of abuse and torture.**

**August 1, 2017**

The English countryside was… _Green_ , was the only word for it. Peacefully green, undisturbed by the shit unfolding in the rest of the world. 

Amanita felt almost guilty they were bringing the danger _into_ this quiet part of the country, even though their train was just passing by. Manchester, the location of their new safe house, was still two hours away. Across from her, Nomi was fumbling with a burner phone, swiping between the screens to check surveillance footages she’d pulled up. It would’ve been ironic to be caught on the train after the security measures they’d taken to get to the station. 

The first everyone had agreed upon after Mavis had relayed the message last night was to part ways. The Paris safe house, as far as the Archipelago could find, was the only one largest to hold all twenty-one of them. And everyone in there was at risk following Jonas’ capture.

Amanita walked over to Nomi’s seat and scooted in next to her, nuzzling her head against her fiancée’s shoulder. She smelled like lavender shampoo, the only kind Gina had in store. The smell suited Noms.

“Wonder what the new safe house is gonna be like,” she whispered, mindful of other passengers who may or may not have been listening in. 

Since when did she get so paranoid? When she realized Noms was hunted for being a kickass superhuman, maybe? God, Bug was rubbing off on her, too. Not that she’d complain. At the moment, _too careful_ sounded a lot better than _dead_.

“Leon’s is the only estate formally registered,” Nomi whispered back, her nose bumping against Amanita’s forehead. 

“As in traceable?”

“In this case I think hiding in plain sight works to our advantage.”

“Mm. Probably true.” Or else their hosts would’ve been caught by now. But if they’d been running a non-profit Airbnb for two years, they must’ve done something right. 

At least, that was what Amanita liked to think. There weren’t enough safe houses with vacancies to hold all their allies, so some of them are staying put ‘till they find a better place. But BPO wouldn’t look for fugitives in a fancy vacation house without a good reason. She hoped Jonas would keep his mouth shut for a little longer. 

Nomi put her arm around Amanita’s shoulder and dimmed the screen of her laptop. “They’ll be okay, Neets. They’ve got Wolfgang. And Kala.”

“Deader-than-dead gunfight followed by an explosion?”

“Exactly.”

Amanita shrugged, somewhat reassured. Still, if worst came to worst, she’d have felt responsible. She’d gone to a new hideout first and left them behind, after all.

“I know.” Nomi sighed. “But it’s a tactical advantage.”

 _Better some caught than all_ , was Will’s exact words. It was astounding how much Noms sounded like the cop. She couldn’t fathom how much the cluster rubbed off on each other when they were simply voices in Noms’ head. But now?

“Still,” Amanita mumbled, looking out the window. “We can’t go through the whole Wolfgang rescue again.”

Going through it once had nearly tore their hearts in two. The first few days after they’d arrived in London had been hectic, and not in the good way. Initially Noms had looked forward to meet her cluster, dangers and all. But once they’d gotten to Will and Riley’s hideout, Wolfgang’s absence had turned the excitement into apprehension. Fear. Dread.

“It won’t come to that,” Nomi promised 

“Hell no. They’re messing with the wrong cluster.”

Amanita had been nervous to meet Noms’ cluster. She imagined they’d be communicating in their heads, and she’d be missing out. But they’d welcomed her with hugs and talked openly in English, mindful of her and their other extended _sapien_ families. They knew her like Noms knew her, only without the romantic affection. And Amanita knew them through Nomi, though their visibility did give Amanita a pause.

“Cluster _and_ company,” Nomi amended.

“I like the sound of that,” she whispered in Nomi’s ear, smirking when her fiancée giggled at the way her breaths tickled. “They’re messing with the wrong _family_.”

Family. Amanita heard the word in her mother’s voice, echoed by an a cappella rendition of it by her crazy fun dads. She pictured the five of them sitting by the fireplace on Christmas Eve, rambling on about sex and politics and Michel Foucalt, downing eggnog in those mugs that had profanities and puns printed on the side.

She used to wonder if it was unfair she had a bigger family than most kids. In kindergarten she’d made a family tree. It was a project Miss Roberts had assigned around the holiday season, _a time for family_ , she’d said. She’d told the kids to ask their parents about their relatives and draw the tree on a giant, decorated piece of paper.

So after lots of help from her dads and three runs to the arts and crafts store, Amanita had hauled a giant cardboard twice her height to school on the last day before winter break, the names barely visible amidst the glitter she’d sprinkled on as a final touch. 

Compared to the family trees of the other kids, hers looked like a family _forest_. Her mom and dads had told her the names of their siblings and parents and grandparents, and her tree had enough branches to settle a colony of birds. At the look of horror in Miss Roberts’ eyes upon realizing she’d be vacuuming sparkly dusts from the carpet all afternoon, Amanita had grinned, plopped down in her seat, and waited for her turn for the show-and-tell.

“What are you thinking?” Nomi’s quiet voice drew her back to the present. It sounded like she was fighting sleep.

They were passing by a farm. The cows, undisturbed by the train, continued to chew on their grass, unaware of the danger facing the humans currently staring them down.

“I’m pretty lucky in the family department,” she remarked, turning to smile at her fiancée. “You’re spoiling me, Noms.”

Nomi chuckled, a tired chuckle. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

“Fine. We’re spoiling each other.”

They stared out the window again in silence, this time admiring the mountains zooming into view. It had started raining, and the drops landed and slid down the window at what seemed like predetermined angles, parallel dotted lines against glass. Nomi traced the lines with the tip of her finger, a smile on the corners of her dark-rimmed eyes — a souvenir from the countless nights she’d stayed up tracking missing persons and incriminating files linked to the BPO _sapiens_.

Nomi yawned like Amanita’s thoughts had triggered a tiredness she’d tried hard to bury. Before she could protest, Amanita sat up straight and pulled Nomi down, offering her lap as a makeshift pillow. An offer that was too good to pass.

Nomi took off her glasses and set it on top of her laptop on the pull-out dining table. Within minutes she’d dozed off, brows twisting into a frown. It never failed to amaze Amanita how despite Noms’ all-access, go-get-‘em ways, she was so vulnerable and easily-stirred when she slept, like part of her mind was always on high-alert. 

Many of her cluster were the same. Especially on the nights before an oncoming battle. Amanita wondered if they slept so fitfully because they wanted to protect themselves, or anyone but. 

She looked out the window again. The rain had grown more intense, fogging up the glass from the outside. So she turned her attention back to Noms and watched her sleep, recalling the first time she talked about family.

Grumpy Johnny Martin hadn’t been impressed with Amanita’s show-and-tell. 

Over the past few months Amanita had spent in kindergarten, she’d come to the conclusion Johnny Martin wasn’t impressed with anything at all, and worse, he liked to make a show of his perpetual discontent. So when she’d skipped to the front of the class, he’d groaned at the sight of her glittery tree and proceeded to draw tornadoes on his desk with his pencil, drowning out Miss Roberts’ warnings with frantic scribbles. 

The sound of lead scratching against the fiberboard drowned out Amanita’s voice. But Amanita Caplan was never one to be deterred by some pest, so she talked louder, shouting over the noise. She told her class how she’d visit her dads on the weekend, and how they’d light her mom’s menorah together on the nights of Hanukkah and spend Christmases chanting the carols they knew in front of the fireplace until their hot cocoas had gone cold. 

 _No one has three dads,_ Johnny paused in the middle of scribbling and drawled from where he sat in the first row. 

 _Johnny, don’t interrupt,_ Miss Roberts had said, shooting him a look like the look Amanita’s mom would give her whenever she pestered her in the middle of a conversation.

Amanita crossed her arms. _I have three dads,_ she insisted.

 _That’s not right._ Johnny puffed out his chest with a snobbish flair. _You’re supposed to have one mom, and one dad -_

 _Enough, Johnny,_ Miss Roberts scolded. She turned to Amanita. _Please continue._

Enthusiasm gone, she mumbled the names of everyone else listed on her family tree, foregoing all the funny anecdotes. When that was done she traipsed back to her seat, dragging the cardboard behind her. Miss Roberts called Shy Oliver Thomas next, then someone else, then someone else, until the last person finished before the bell rang.

During recess she sat at her desk sulking. Her project sat beside her by her seat, and she picked at the corner of the cardboard until the glitter chipped, the purple and pink and blue bits sticking to her fingertips. 

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. With a glare, she turned around -

And looked right into the eyes of Oliver Thomas.

 _Leave me alone,_ she grumbled. She wasn’t in the mood to play hopscotch, and Oliver hadn’t talked to her, ever. In fact, she was pretty sure Oliver hadn’t talked to anyone.

 _Don’t listen to Johnny,_ he said. Well, more like whispered.

She shrugged and kicked the side of her desk with the heel of her boot. A pencil rolled off from her notebook onto the carpeted floor.

_You’re upset about what he said._

She scowled and picked the pencil up. _Am not,_ she insisted.

Instead of responding, Johnny walked away. She thought he’d decided to go outside. But a few seconds later he appeared in front of her again, holding his own family tree. The paper was small and flimsy, barely larger than the surface of her desk. 

She hadn’t paid attention to the presentations after hers, but she took a peek and discovered there was a lot less glitter, and a lot more lines. He’d drawn an actual tree with green and brown crayons. At the root was his name. On the top of the trunk, below the place where the tree branched off, was another name.

He pointed to the name. _That’s my mom,_ he said. _And these are my uncles -_ he traced the three branches that sprouted from the parts of the trunk near his mom’s name with his finger - _and my cousins_ \- he pointed at the twigs sprouting from the branches. _My grandparents are up here, at the top._

Was that all? She craned her neck around the paper. The other side was blank.

_I never knew my dad._

_Oh. I - I’m sorry,_ she told him. It was what the grown-ups at the commune would say when someone was telling them something sad.

 _It’s alright._ _I have my mom. That’s all the family I need._

She nodded.

_So don’t listen to Johnny. ’Cause not everyone’s family’s like his. He’s wrong._

Carefully, Oliver folded his family tree and walked back to his desk. Amanita stared for a while longer, but he didn’t look her in the eye again. He placed it into his backpack and took out the book he’d been reading for the past week, engaging himself in the story like she’d seen him do every day at recess. And that was the end of that.

She’d thought about it on her way home that day as she swung her mother’s hand on their way to the bus station. On the bus ride back to Dancing Waters, her mother turned to her. _Something on your mind, Amanita?_

Amanita frowned. _Not everyone has three dads._

Her mother looked nervous. The last time she saw her mom look so nervous was when she was preparing to visit her grandparents. She didn’t let Amanita come along, but left her at her dads’. _No,_ her mother agreed. _Most people don’t._

_Some people don’t have a dad._

_Why are you asking? Did someone say something?_ Her mother put on her serious face, the one she’d use around the students who turned in their work too late.

_Mom, can I… Can I share my dads?_

At her commune, Amanita shared everything with the other kids because it was fair that way. Wasn’t it fair for her to share her dads, too?

 _That’s sweet of you, honey._ Her mom chuckled. _But it doesn’t work like that with family._

She and Oliver didn’t say another word to each other for the rest of the year, but she’d always remember his tree, the one he loved and she couldn’t understand.

Her burner phone buzzed in her pocket, rousing her from her thoughts. A message from Bug. _There’s car rentals at the station,_ he texted. _Stay safe, Angels._

Bug had told her and Noms not to reply. People would find ways to deduce who was at the ends of two-way conversations based on the words exchanged. Bit of a dead giveaway right now, given their unique circumstance.

She chuckled at the paranoia. Typical Bug. But the hacker’s words made sense.

To think, Amanita thought her glitter tree was as crazy as her family was gonna get. But that happened before the whole “Post-Sensorium Relativity of Reality”, as Bug would call it; before she’d found herself hopping on a plane to London with Noms to protect a group of people she hadn’t seen. Because they were a part of Noms, she thought, stroking her fiancée’s hair as she slept on. Like her dads were a part of her.

And that was enough for Amanita to call them family.

*

“You’re gonna get an infection,” said Miki, examining Sun’s fist.

They sat at a booth away from Nomi and Amanita and stared at the fog clouding the train windows. The rain grew more intense, and the splatters thumped against the train like urgent hands rapping on a closed door. 

Sun had been silent for most of the ride. Being with her cluster had been a reprieve from everything in her personal life, but now that she had time to herself for once, she wondered what would become of them after Veronika had been finished. 

Maybe she would go back to jail. Or maybe not. If Joong-Ki was working with Veronika, her brother could be in more legal trouble than she had initially predicted. But she had given her share of family protection per her mother’s wishes, and now whatever happened to her brother was out of her control. 

After all, Detective Mun was onto him. And Detective Mun, she had learned, was anything but a quitter. Unfortunately.

“I haven’t got an infection for a long time,” Sun responded, tracing the scars on her knuckles with her thumb.

“How’d you get these, anyway?” asked the Inuk. “Do you punch walls as a hobby?”

“There weren’t many things to do in prison.”

“Could damage your nerve endings if they haven’t healed right. Might hurt when it rains.”

Sun looked at the fogged-up window. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Miki shrugged. “That’s what they all used to say.”

“Seen a lot of patients like me?”

“We used to get hunters coming over with all kinds of crazy injuries, back in my apprentice days.” She glanced at the duffle bag sitting underneath her seat, packed at the last minute. “I’ve got supplies. Something in here ought to help. We’ll see when we get there.”

“Thank you.”

Miki leaned in closer and propped her elbows on the pull-out dining table sitting between them. After making sure there were no eavesdroppers, she whispered conspiratorially, “You’re celebrities in the Archipelago. It’s good for business.”

Right. Sun couldn’t picture her cluster’s newfound fame due to all this hiding, but it made sense. News travelled fast. Sooner or later everyone would have heard about the cluster who had escaped from BPO facilities thrice. 

Everyone on _both_ sides.

Sensing her worry, Miki quirked an eyebrow. “Whatcha thinkin’?”

“Is it wise for you to follow us to our new place?”

“Nothing about this is wise,” Miki pointed out. “That’s the case for all of us.”

A fair point. But still -

“It’s our fight, as much as yours. None of us have your skills, but we figured it’s time we pulled our share.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” said Sun. If they had still been stuck using that abandoned nursing home in London as a safe house, she would have gone mad. Cages were hard for humans as much as other animals. Perhaps even more so. 

And after prison, her first instinct, upon seeing a hint of danger, was to strike.

“None of us got much of a head start on the _sapiens_ ‘till you all came along. But since we’re all here, the five of us figured this was our chance to fight back.”

“Thank you,” Sun said again. 

“Plus, cabin fever’s getting to us all. We haven’t left Paris in two years.”

That seemed as good a reason as any. It must have been the first time the five of them were separated for more than a day. Miki had volunteered to join them in Manchester. Leon and Genevieve would be leaving for Oslo soon. Gina and Henrik, were staying in Paris with some of Sun’s cluster to work on anti-Blockers and chemical weapons in the basement lab. With so many of its members on quarantine, the Archipelago hadn’t managed to find much vacancy at other safe houses around Europe.

“I can think of better circumstances to travel.”

“True.” Miki played with her braids, examining the red tips. The dye had been fading, revealing the bleached orange-brown underneath. “But where’s the fun in that?”

It would appear Sun’s cluster wasn’t the only one too keen to rush head-first into danger. Not all of Miki’s cluster believed the same about physical confrontation, Sun was sure, but the Inuk seemed to be the most combative of them all, despite her innocent appearance. Her healing skills were a bonus.

“Try blue.” Sun looked at Miki’s hair. “Mavis gave Amanita some of her supplies.”

“Is that the team color?”

A team color? Sun chuckled. Before her rebirth, she was far from a collective team-spirit type. She would have found the notion ridiculous. But she must admit, blue suited them.

“Since you’re so keen on joining us, I suppose it’s fair.”

“I suppose it is.” 

Against all odds, Sun found herself saying, “Welcome to the team.”

*

It hadn’t occurred to Felix how much time Kala and Wolfie spent together until she approached him after dinner, and he realized it was the first time in days — weeks, actually — they talked one-on-one. Last time that happened was in Scotland, and he spent most of the conversation staring at her in awe as she talked about explosions. 

The TV was playing a soccer match on high volume, but Felix muted it and looked at Kala quizzically, scooting over on the couch. He wasn’t really paying attention to the game, but it was unsettlingly quiet in the safe house, with four of his allies — since when did he begin to think of them as allies? — gone to Manchester, and four more currently packing for Oslo.

To think, he used to live alone. _Fuck_. This war was messing with his lifestyle.

Kala sat next to him. “How was… how was your day?”

“Fine.” 

Upon hearing the dry tone in his voice, she startled. He didn’t mean to sound snarky. Really, he was happy Wolfie found himself a nice, physically attractive woman who could make bombs. A perfectly hot match.

But these two had spent days cooped up in their room, and Wolfie was smitten every time he checked. He hadn’t seen his brother like this since — well, he hadn’t seen his brother like this, period. It was unsettling. Wolfie didn’t _do_ smitten.

“Sorry,” Felix muttered. Kala opened her mouth to say something, probably _it’s okay_ , but he repeated, “No, I’m sorry. This war’s messing with my head.”

“Mine, too.” She smiled politely. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been -” she frowned, searching for some kind of euphemism - “Wolfgang and I, we -”

“You’re together a lot,” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

“It’s fine. I know you have a lot going on, with the war, and your - your chemistry.” 

And he meant it. He didn’t know shit about Headhunters except they were evil, and they tortured his brother, and they were gonna do it again if his brother’s superhuman family didn’t stop them in time with Felix’s help. The good thing was Felix wasn’t the only _human_ human in this place. He’d bonded with Dani over their shared lack of knowledge in this BPO matter, and that, he could never be bitter about.

“Mm. My chemistry.” Kala chuckled. “I admit, it’s been challenging my skills quite a bit.”

“Something tells me you’re up for a challenge.”

“I am.” She arched an eyebrow.

“Well, no woman in her right mind would try and get Wolfie into a long term relationship. He isn’t a boyfriend,” he answered the unspoken question.

Kala hummed, half-smug, half-disapproving. With this super brain thing he supposed Kala already knew Wolfie’s relationship history. He pictured Kala’s horrified expression upon discovering the less-than-decent memories in Wolfie’s head, and snickered.

“I’ve never asked Wolfgang to clarify the exact nature of our relationship. But I’m assuming it is a long term commitment, since he and I made plans to go to Paris. Together. Before -” Kala stopped herself, swallowing hard.

“He’s not going anywhere,” said Felix, hiding his own flinch.

“Felix, you know Wolfgang better than anyone.” She turned to him, clasping her hands in the way she always did when she was asking a question. Felix didn’t realize he’d been observing her, but he supposed it was part of the screening protocol. He needed to know what kind of person his brother was dating. “Can I ask you something?”

“About Wolfie? Don’t you know everything? With your uhh -” he tapped a finger at his forehead - “mind-spying superpower?”

“I’m not asking for the facts. I’m asking for advice.”

“You’re asking _me_ for relationship advice.”

“Yes,” she said, entirely serious. “Wolfgang and I… We haven’t had a full discussion about this, even though we have spent a lot, and I mean a _lot,_ of time in each other’s company. Not simply through our connection, but in person. Which I’m sure you are aware of since you already pointed it out -”

Felix stared at her. The what and the what?

“What I mean is,” she started again, “I understand there are things Wolfgang may find a little difficult. Some… emotional things. And I want to be there for him, Felix. But I don’t want to overstep because I know it will scare him, and I don’t want him to push me away.”

“Emotional things?”

“I know about… his past,” she said, keeping it subtle. “And he judges himself for this, even though it was completely outside his control and I don’t blame him for -”

“Ahh.”

“Felix, is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“You’ve done a lot.”

“You think so?”

“You talk sense into him. You know how impossible that is? The guy has a death wish and way too many bullets. You’ve managed to keep his big head from inflating to the size of an air balloon.” _If Wolfie believed in God, I’d say he takes your words as fucking gospel._

“He _is_ quite reckless in the face of danger.”

“You’ve saved his life,” said Felix. _By building a bomb. Out of kitchen supplies. And blew up half a dozen guards. Fucking Hell._ “Thank you.”

She smiled. Kala’s smile was the kind that made people smile back. Even a stoic guy like Wolfie could fall for it. No wonder his brother acted like a fucking sap around her. “That’s what I want advice about.”

“Kala, I’ve been trying to save Wolfie from his crazy-ass do-or-die mindset since we were kids. I think he’s a lost cause.”

“I’m up for a challenge,” she echoed his words, crossing her arms.

Point taken. 

“But it’s not only that,” she continued, her voice quieter. “It’s… In his nightmares, the ones I can see, sometimes he sees himself committing these violent acts, which I know he wouldn’t do in real life without a good reason. And once BPO’s gone, I know he can change. But that’s not where we are. Not yet.”

Right. This fucking wait was driving them insane.

“And it hurts, because every time we wake up after a nightmare, it’s like he’s seeing himself as the worst form of himself.”

“I know what you mean. Wolfie’s afraid of this. Seeing himself as _him_. He tries to hide it, but he’s a shit liar. He _isn’t_ like that,” Felix added.

“ _I know_ he’s not. But sometimes… Sometimes I wonder if he knows.”

Felix sighed. “This is Wolfie we’re talking about. Always thinks the worst of himself.”

Judging by Kala’s frown, she’d found out the hard way. “There’s no erasing what that man did to Wolfgang. But I hate to see him so… haunted.”

She didn’t say _father_ , which was just as well. Felix would never think of the asshole as such. 

“That _Arschloch_ did a number on him,” he agreed. “That’d fuck anyone up, even a tough guy like Wolfie.”

“It would.”

“Honestly, I’m glad he fucking ended things before _he_ was the one lying dead. We were scared shitless for months after, but better him than Wolfie.”

She looked taken aback. “It was both of you?”

“I was the reason.”

“Felix,” she said slowly. “Tell me what happened.”

Felix drew a sharp breath. _Shit_. Wolfie would kill him. But he had a feeling, with that mind of hers, Kala would have found out eventually. And, knowing Wolfie, he wouldn’t take it so well, having his memories read.

“Well, he waited ‘till Anton came back piss-drunk from a bar and put this rope around his neck and strangled -”

“I know what happened at the end.”

“You -” Felix gawked - “ _fuck_. You knew? Wolfie didn’t fucking tell me anything -”

“He showed me. At his uncle’s. You were…” She looked guilty. “You were unconscious.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “You pass out for two months, and you miss the whole story of Wolfie getting a girlfriend. _And_ this astral-projection mind-jacking shit.”

“Felix, you said you were part of the reason. Could you tell me why he -” she lowered her voice, looking around to make sure they were alone. Their hosts didn’t know Wolfie’s history, after all. “Why he killed him?”

It happened on October 4th, 2001.

Felix may have forgotten many things, but not that. Never that. He was sure there was more to it, the shit that happened leading up to the breaking point, but Wolfie wouldn’t tell him exactly how hard he’d been hit.

That didn’t mean Felix couldn’t guess. 

On days Wolfie would come to school late, he’d tell Felix it was worse than usual. But he was fine, he’d say. He’d waited it out with gritted teeth, thinking about Conan. Wolfie was good at hiding his wince, and no one at school thought twice about the commie with the mysterious cuts and bruises, but Felix knew Wolfie would live with the never-ending pain raging through his body long after the marks had healed. 

“You know what the _Arschloch_ used to do. It was worse that day. Fuck, I thought he was dead. I thought he’d done it — he’d killed Wolfie.”

Kala swallowed before nodding, her gaze unfocused, brows knotted in a tight frown. Felix didn’t know how much she’d seen in Wolfie’s head already, but he could tell she was remembering, pain and all.

For Felix, the incident started when he went to Wolfie’s house in the morning on Thursday, October 3rd.

Anton never stayed in on Thursdays, so Felix and Wolfie always skipped school. Thursday was Conan day. The door to Wolfie’s place had been unlocked, like it always had been when Anton was out. But he’d found Wolfie passed out against the closet in his room, lying senseless on the ground. 

He swore. Wolfgang shifted in response to the sound, propping his elbow against the ground to bring himself up — and moaned, his arms wobbling against the weight of his body.

Felix had sighed in relief. Wolfie was alive. _Good_. 

That was before he noticed the blood marks on the painted wood. The one trailing from the knobs on the pull-out doors, to the ground… To the back of Wolfie’s head.

“Wolfie’s a survivor,” Felix said hoarsely. “But he scared the Hell out of me.”

“I’ve seen the things that man did.” Kala’s voice didn’t tremble, but a dark look crossed her eyes, not unlike the one Felix had seen on the night of Wolfie’s rescue. Something told Felix if Anton was still alive and out there, he’d find himself obliterated in his bed before he could make out Kala’s face.

 _Fuck, Wolfie._ Felix had reached forward and steadied his friend. _Hey hey - easy._

With a lot of dragging and tugging and pulling and swearing, Felix had sat him on his bed. He’d ran to the kitchen and returned with a pack of frozen something, pushing it against the back of Wolfie’s head near his neck. Felix couldn’t tell how bad it was; wasn’t sure he wanted to. But it was a lot more blood than Felix had anticipated, and something told him the towels in the house would make less than ideal bandages.

Wolfie had hissed when the frozen packet made contact with his skin. Against all his trained self-control, he’d teared up. 

 _Fucking Hell._ Felix muttered. _That Archsloch is going to kill you._

Wolfie had swallowed hard and tried to mumble, probably to say how he was fine. But his voice was strained and gravely, like the strength was beat out of him with the force of Anton’s kicks. Felix couldn’t hear what he was saying.

 _Fucking Anton,_ Felix spat. _You are not coming back to this place._

“He hit Wolfie in his room. Threw him at the closet, I think. Wolfie hit his head on the handle. It was sharp. Gave him a cut, right here.” Felix gestured to the area above his neck. 

“No,” her voice trembled.

“So I stole some money from a drawer and called a cab. We went to this shit hospital, one where they patched you up without asking questions. Doctor said he didn’t get a concussion, but I don’t know. He was a shit doctor. Then I got him to my house.”

“Oh, Wolfgang,” she muttered, but he knew she was listening to every word.

“I told him he had to stay at my place. My mom was working two shifts that day. I hid him in my room — she never went in there. Wolfie was trying to play hero. He said something about not getting me involved, but he passed out and slept all afternoon.”

“All afternoon?” Kala looked at Felix, eyes watering. “Felix, he could have been -”

He nodded yes. Wolfie had the faded scar right under his hairline on the back of his head, usually covered up by his shirt collar. Five stitches. Barely visible now, but if Kala were to search, she could see the place where the healed gash merged with the scalp. 

Felix still looked there, now and then, to remind himself this actually happened. In real life, not in a violent nightmare he could wake up from.

“I couldn’t let him stay there after that. Wolfie wouldn’t have agreed, but he was asleep, so I snuck back to his place after it got dark. Thought I could steal some more money, and we could get the fuck out of Berlin - maybe stay in Wuppertal for a few weeks where I used to live.” He cringed at the naiveté. “I thought Anton wouldn’t be home. Wolfie told me he usually came back piss-drunk after midnight.”

“He was home? Oh my God, Felix -”

Out of all the days Anton would wander outside in a pre-gamed drunken stupor after dark, Felix had picked the one evening he’d come back early, grumbling about some _Arschloch_ at the liquor store who’d picked a fight and gotten him thrown out. He’d thrown the door open before Felix could find anywhere to hide.

“Not when I got there.” Felix winced. “But he caught me.”

Kala’s hand tightened around the edge of her skirt, wrinkling the fabric. But she let him go on, swallowing back her dread.

 _Fucking bastard!_ Anton had lunged forward at Felix, his heavy footsteps unsteady. _Think you can steal from me?_

Before Felix could make a dash for it, Anton had pushed him against the ground. His alcohol-infused mind had given him the impulse to lay a hand on another child, but even drunk, he was sly enough not to aim for the head. Every time he’d dropped by Felix’s house, he’d been civil. Polite, even. Felix’s mom knew nothing about his violence, and Wolfie had ordered Felix not to tell. 

Not that Felix would have. If he did, Wolfie would take all the hits. Felix wasn’t an idiot.

“He didn’t do much. Just tried to give me a scare,” Felix reassured. “He wasn’t stupid.”

 _I-_ Felix had put on his best silly grin and crawled back on all fours, begging the air to make its way back into his lungs after the impact nearly knocked the wind out of him - _H-Herr Bogdanow, I was looking for -_

Fuck. No lie could explain why he was rummaging in the man’s sock drawer. And from the looks of things, he’d backed himself into a corner.

 _Where -_ Anton towered over him and launched a kick at his side, the hard toe of his shoe jabbing Felix’s skin _\- is my son?!_

“Felix,” Kala said slowly, bottom lip trembling. “How did you get out?”

“Wolfgang.”

“ _No_ ,” she uttered, barely louder than a whimper. “No! He’d kill him -”

Felix shook his head.

 _L-leave ‘im alone!_ came Wolfgang’s voice, slurring but distinctly him, right when Felix thought this was it, this was the moment he’d bite the dust. A bottle smashed behind the back of Anton’s head, and he passed out.

“Wolfie knocked him out. Don’t know when the Hell he got there, but he saved me. It was all me, Kala. I -”

On their ride back to Felix’s house — they’d taken money from the back pocket of Anton’s jeans — Wolfie had lifted Felix’s shirt to examine his side despite his protest. The bruise was a faint yellow-green, but it throbbed under his skin like slow electric pulses, and Felix knew, from the many fights they’d found themselves in, it was gonna turn purple.

With a careful hand, Wolfie had let the shirt fall back.

“It’s not your fault, Felix,” said Kala. “ _Of course_ you had to get him out. Wolfgang couldn’t stay with him after that. He would have killed him.”

“No.” Felix looked her in the eye without blinking. “I was the reason.”

_I’m going to kill him._

_I’m fine, Wolfie,_ Felix said, concerned at the way his brother’s eyes burned with an unsuppressed fury. The last time Wolfie had raged like this, he’d broken an older boy’s nose in the schoolyard and got himself suspended for weeks.

 _No._ Wolfgang clutched his hands into fists. _I’m going to kill him._

He had heard Wolfie say so before: once when he’d snuck into Wolfie’s room through the window when he didn’t show up at school and found him in bed with a broken rib; and again six months later, when he’d ran to Felix’s house at five in the morning with a dislocated shoulder and sat on the front porch in silence, watching the sunrise. 

So Felix had simply put his arm around his brother and waited for the driver to take them back home, wondering how fast they could pack and get the fuck out of Berlin. He didn’t think much of Wolfie’s promise. They _would_ get rid of Anton Bogdanow eventually, he knew, one way or another. But not then. And not in that way.

“He killed him the day after. You know how it went.”

“Felix -”

“I asked him why. And he told me… He told me it didn’t matter what the _Arschloch_ did to him. But that night he’d come after _me_. And Wolfie said he’d die before he let that man lay a hand on me again.”

Kala was silent. The TV was still on, they’d noticed, and the game was about to end, still zero to zero. But they fixed their eyes on the TV screen, both minds preoccupied with thoughts and memories and pain, the pain from watching someone live through their past in nightmares without a way to end it.

She was silent when she cried, but the light emanating from the TV casted a glow on her tear streaks. Felix turned away to give her privacy, pretending not to notice when she’d wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 

A few minutes later the match ended, and a commercial for some Chanel perfume rolled in. Felix heard Kala shift in her seat, turning to face him again. He did the same.

“I wish there was something more I can do.”

“I’ve wished it for years. Wolfie’s got it in his head that there was no chance for him to be good, that he’d fucked himself over when he killed Anton and he continued to fuck himself over working for his uncle.”

Kala sniffled. “He didn’t have a choice. He did what he had to.”

“I tried to tell him the same thing. He killed him to protect me, Kala. All the times he’d been hit? He didn’t care until Anton laid a hand on me.”

“He protected all of us,” said Kala. “Before we could rescue him from BPO. All that pain. None of us would have been as strong.”

“That _Arschloch_ did a number on Wolfie, Kala. He fucked with his mind. Got Wolfie to believe he was some monster.”

She looked at him.

“I haven’t been able to talk Wolfie out of hating himself,” said Felix. “But you’re not me. And I’m happy Wolfie’s found someone like you before he could launch himself into a fucking self-destructive black hole.”

That made her smile. A few more teardrops fell from the crinkled corners of her eyes. He pulled out a tissue from the Kleenex box on the coffee stand and handed it to her, watching her dab at her cheeks. 

“It’ll be different now.”

“How?” Kala asked, settling her hands back on her lap.

“He’ll be more careful, now that he has a future.” 

 _Future_. The word seemed so foreign to Felix after he and Wolfie had spent most of their twenties parading around Berlin like they’d never settle. 

“I hope so.”

Felix was the wild one — no debate about that — but Wolfie was protective to the point of insensibly reckless, and he’d save Felix’s ass at the expense of his own life no matter what stupid shit Felix got them into. Felix thought this was gonna be the death of Wolfie one day. But now, with Kala and her impromptu explosions, he thought maybe, just maybe, his brother could stay alive and get better.

“For once Wolfie’s fucking happy, okay?” Felix smirked. “Accept it.”

“That’s not true,” she taunted back, sniffling. “He was happy with you, too.”

“Yeah, well.” Felix waved her off. “It’s a different kind of happy. Ours was a ‘get piss-drunk at a club and pass out on the floor next to his bed’ happy. Yours is a ‘cuddling and smooching like there’s no one else around’ one.”

“Sorry.” She chuckled, blowing her nose on the tissue. Something about the smirk she didn’t try to hide told Felix she wasn’t sorry at all.

“But really, Kala. You’re the only one Wolfie’s stubborn ass will listen to. You’re a good influence. Maybe someday you’ll talk him out of hating himself.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Have some faith.”

“Thank you, Felix.”

Kala was still upset about Wolfie. Hell, he couldn’t let her go back to Wolfie all sad like this. He’d have suspected they were up to something. And for this whole intervention thing to work, they needed to be on the down-low. Great. Felix supposed he ought to cheer her up. Totally out of his area of expertise when it came to women. Shit.

So he switched the topic. “You two gonna travel around Paris after this is over?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wolfie’s an old-fashioned guy. I think he’ll like it. All the cheesy romantic shit.”

Kala perked up. “Then yes.”

The clock struck three. A fucking well-timed coincidence it was, too. Three meant it was time for the next guarding shift, and Dani and Hernando had volunteered. Felix sighed and pulled himself up from the couch, then offered Kala a hand, which she accepted. They made their ways to the bedroom on the second floor using the main staircase, keeping their volume low in case they woke the kids.

“Felix,” her gentle voice stopped him before he could open the door and peek his head in to see if they were awake. “We’re not going to leave you behind. You know that, right?”

“Well, shit, Kala, I didn’t think you would. I misjudged you,” he joked, and snorted when she fell for it.

Indignant, she crossed her arms, eyebrow raised in challenge. “We were considering _staying_ in Paris, actually. Of course, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Be a third wheel in the city of love?”

Kala looked between Felix and the door with a shit-eating grin that rivaled Wolfie’s (they really _had_ been rubbing off on each other too much for Felix’s liking), inside which Dani was talking to a mumbling Hernando in Spanish, presumably to wake him up for the shift. 

“Make it a double date.”

“Maybe I will!” he retorted right as the door opened.

“You two talking about me?” asked Dani, patting Felix on the shoulder. Hernando followed close behind, rubbing his eyes with a yawn, glasses clutched in his other hand.

“No,” they said simultaneously, before exchanging a look. It was _on_.

*

Jonas woke up tightly bound to a leather stretcher, the binds chafing his limbs, blocking most of the circulation. The whiteness of the room was blinding. Why interrogation rooms were painted that way, he never knew. There was something sterile about this color, a purity soon to be broken by the splatter of a prisoner’s blood.

 _His_ blood.

A machine beeped next to him, the rhythm calibrated with his heartbeats. If he closed his eyes, he could convince himself this was normal. This was his life. And it had been for months, before Veronika found a better use for him. Before Will’s cluster kidnapped him and rescued him from his deal, albeit at the worst of times.

Before he’d betrayed them. 

 _What’s done is done_ , he reminded himself. The animosity between Lila’s cluster and Will’s had festered long before Jonas’ own betrayal. By then, telling them about their shared Mother would have complicated the matter. Or so Jonas believed.

 _Ha! You’re the one complicating the matter, Jo,_ said Kareem’s voice, one he heard in his head whenever he was about to attempt what his friend would deem a “typical Jonas-type wishy washy thingamagig”. 

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” cooed Veronika, her voice reverberating around the chamber.

The hair on Jonas’ arms stood up. 

He heard the sound of wheels rolling against the ground. Veronika inched closer on her stool until her face came into view: blood red lips curled into a sneer, piercing gaze the same steel blue. 

“How does it feel, Jonas?” she asked, reaching a hand over to stroke his hair, feeling the bumps on the tight EEG cap over his head. “How does it feel to, what would you call it… ‘Be back in the devil’s chamber’?”

It did sound like something he’d say. Unfortunately, given his current predicament, the humor was lost on him. 

She looked up behind Jonas, and nodded. “Would you like to proceed, Karl?”

“My pleasure,” Pelzer growled.

The Headhunter came into Jonas’ view. Veronika wheeled herself aside to the machines. She pushed a few buttons, acrylic nails tapping against the plastic. Jonas braced himself for the worst — his experiences in interrogation told him she’d either set up electric paddles or the Traceworks. Possibly both. He could hear the voices inside Pelzer’s head, but not those of Will’s cluster. Or Lila’s. Fortunately they’d taken precautions.

As he predicted, Pelzer grabbed the metal contraption sitting on a table nearby and hovered it in front of Jonas’ eyes, his mouth curled into a malicious grin. From experience, Jonas knew the man enjoyed hearing his prisoners scream. It was a rarity for a Headhunter to be addicted to the physical aspect of torture, more than the mental.

“You know what this does,” said Pelzer curtly, his voice inflected. A surefire sign of excitement. How sad it must be for him to consider this his primary form of entertainment? “You’ve felt it. You know how to make it stop.”

Pelzer towered over Jonas, the angry voices in his minds amplified by his growing exhilaration. Jonas heard Veronika turn the dial on the machine, slowly. Trying to detect how high the voltage had been set was wouldn’t do him any good. Even at its lowest setting the pulsing pain would course through his muscles like a crashing wave and make him shudder, followed by the familiar sensation of needles jabbing into his veins. 

The only difference, really, was how close the hits would bring Jonas to an electrocution-induced oblivion. A blackout, before the cycle started anew the next day.

“I understand the procedures involved in torture,” he replied, calmly as ever. The pain would come. He was trapped. But the first hit shouldn’t knock him out. “Though I would like to point out your tactics proved to be less than effective last time.”

From the way Pelzer snarled, twisting the scar down the left side of his cheek, Jonas knew his statement had gotten a rise out of the Headhunter. Surely he’d make Jonas pay for this with the force of his strikes, but it was enough to distract the minds of even the most skilled interrogators. Jonas cleared his own mind of the memories of Will and his allies’ safe house. _Safe_ house. He focused on the word _safe._

_Safe. Away from the others._

Jonas closed his eyes and thought about Angelica, about the cabin in the woods they called home, their own shelter away from the world. Admittedly it provided more of a psychological sense of security than a physical one. Back then there was no Blockers to keep their knowledge of the cabin at bay from the others.

The first hit from the paddle came as soon as Angelica’s image formed in the black space of his mind. Jonas choked, and Angelica reached forward, concern etched onto her face. Their fingertips touched. Jonas relished in the ecstasy coursing through their bodies upon the contact. Their surroundings — the walls of their cabin — meshed into mosaic tiles and a roof of an architectural structure he couldn’t name. 

It was the memory of the first time she’d visited at Den Haag Centraal.

Love at first sight. An untainted moment before they became — though they were ignorant to it then — involved with sensates who wished harm on their own kind. This was a cherished memory, a sacred place in his mind. A place currently intruded upon by Pelzer, who lingered at the back of their shared mind, a beast ready to pounce.

Then came another blow, amplified by the increased voltage. Blood creeped into Jonas’ mouth from the back of his throat, the thick liquid coating his tongue, tangy and metallic. A sturdy hand grappled at his chest, pressing would-be bruises into his tender skin. His nerve endings tingled with a numbness coupled with stabbing bursts of pain.

_Where. Are. They?_

Really, Jonas thought, they could be anywhere. Will and the others weren’t foolish enough to compromise their safety and remain in one place for the sake of comfort. None of Angelica’s children were. (He pictured himself walking closer to Angelica in his mind’s eye until their face were inches away.) The children took after her. Reasonably cautious. Easily misguided.

But just in case, he ought to try and give them a bit of time.

 _Angelica, Angelica, Angelica._ Her voice echoed in the black space of Jonas’ mind. Everywhere they turned — Jonas _and_ Pelzer — she greeted them with her smile. As a distraction, Jonas recalled his first meeting with Angelica again, retreating back into the safe space away from the information Pelzer was forcing him to reveal.

Their fingertips touched again. The same warmth, same ecstasy coursing through their bodies and minds. In a memory, the sensation would never fade. 

But real life was a different matter. The throbbing pain on Jonas’ chest from the paddles would remain for days, _weeks_ , after.

Pelzer’s elbow jabbed at the tender area below Jonas’ lungs, above his abdomen. He coughed, keeping his eyes closed, and sprinkled blood on Pelzer’s face, as much blood as he could muster. His other option was choking. Hardly ideal in his situation.

Angelica’s children had grown resilient from their mistakes. And, unlike Jonas, they had time to take down the _sapiens_ responsible for Angelica’s death. He wanted to believe they would, but his optimism was lost a long time ago, in the abyss of his mind space. Somewhere abandoned, companion to all his memories of loss.

 _Protect them,_ Angelica had said the last time they spoke. 

Jonas suppressed his instinct to recall images of the children she’d shared before she’d taken her own life per his suggestion. ( _We had no choice. We had no choice._ ) Faces, names, locations of the children’s homes. The homes they’d left behind.

The night Angelica killed herself was the second part of Jonas’ memory loop. There was no warmth this time when their hands made contact, no bliss, no wonder. Wind seeped through from the gaps on the windows in the abandoned church in Chicago, worming their ways into pores. Her skin was clammy. Her fingers were frozen. His, too.

 _None of us were as strong as you,_ he’d said.

Angelica turned to look him in the eye, letting the memories they’d shared sift through their minds in an effort to drown out Milton’s voice. Pelzer was watching the same memories, waiting for a slip-up. This time Pelzer had projected himself into the scene at the church, his hands on Jonas’ shoulders. An unforgivable intrusion. not that it ever stopped him.

Jonas focused on the feelings from his memories with Angelica: the good, and the bad. The ecstasy of their first meeting followed by the pain of a cluster birth, her commitment in studying sensacity followed by his envy of Milton, her then-collaborator. Simple, unbridled emotions he’d associated with each scene, triggered by the locking of their eyes. But he kept himself grounded in the memory loop.

Their surroundings shifted back and forth. The station, the church. Station, church…

Pelzer’s fist pummeled Jonas’ chest, aggravating his bruise. The pain shot through his body like its own form of shock, so different but so similar to electricity.  But physical pain couldn’t affect the flow of emotions in the loop, ecstasy and loss, ecstasy and loss, occasionally joined together by other memories. 

Pelzer’s presence in Jonas’ mind was concrete. That was the only word for it. There was no chill like Milton’s mind, no bitter force like Lila’s, no riled-up persistence like Will’s. The scope with which the Headhunter examined the memories was purely a factual one.

Interesting.

Jonas opened his eyes and squinted immediately, the stark whiteness stinging  his eyes. Through his tears he focused on Pelzer, on the Headhunter’s unmistakably frustrated expression. There was no hint of that in their mind space. How Pelzer could keep his emotions separated from his mental presence, Jonas had a theory.

“H-Have you -” 

Jonas wheezed. His throat was parched, still coated with the tang of drying blood. This, admittedly, made the taunting less satisfying. But he tried again, knowing the words would sting even if the tone of his voice couldn’t. Headhunters liked to pretend they had no weakness when it came to invasions of the mind, but Pelzer’s shortcoming was all too clear.

“Have you ever had a cluster?”

Emotional detection, not memory searching, came first after a sensate was reborn. This was the way they familiarized themselves with their powers — by experiencing their cluster-mates’ feelings. In a sensate interrogation, the easiest way to get a prisoner to cave would be to get a rise out of them, then latch onto their emotion and peek at the memories brought to the surface as a result of the vulnerability.

Love was the most dangerous emotion of them all. Milton had used it to make most of his prisoners cave. Especially Wolfgang.

The paddle zapped against Jonas’ chest again. Pelzer growled. Jonas had anticipated a reaction from the Headhunter, but forgotten to brace himself for the spasm brought by the electricity. For a few seconds he couldn’t see anything except for blinking yellow dots in his field of vision. “Mind your own business, Maliki.”

“ _Enough_ , Karl,” came Veronika’s voice from behind, loud and demanding. 

Her voice broke on the second syllable, giving away the tremor she’d tried to mask with the clicking of her heels against the marble floor. It may have been the first time the _sapien_ witnessed an interrogation in person. Jonas wondered if seeing sensates at work with the powers she’d never acquire aroused some sense of fear.

Jonas heard Karl set down the paddle on the table, and thought this was over. But then the Headhunter dashed back to pummel his fist against Jonas’ torso again, pounding his ribcage with a strength just short of breaking his bones.

This time the throbbing wasn’t exclusive to his chest. It sent shudders through the hollows of his bones until it reached the back of his skull, hammering the back of his skull with the intensity. Jonas found himself awash with a wave of nausea, and considered himself fortunate to be lying on his back.

He swallowed back the second wave of — vomit? blood? possibly both — and gritted his teeth, hoping it’d stop the whimper from escaping. Showing weakness now would be a strategically bad decision. His brows furrowed in response to the insuppressible agony.

“I ask the questions, Maliki!” Karl spat into his face. When Jonas’ vision was back, he saw the Headhunter seething.

“No matter,” Jonas mumbled, not wanting to speak louder in case the tremor in his voice brought Pelzer any satisfaction. “I’ve got my answer.”

“We’ll get our answer, too,” Veronika whispered close to Jonas’ ear. He didn’t notice she’d moved her way over to him. The sharpness of her voice made him shiver. “Maybe not today,” she said, louder now, standing up. “But bide your time. My Hunters have never failed.”

 _Except with Wolfgang._  

Though Jonas couldn’t afford to say anything now. He needed to spare his energy. So he kept his mouth shut until the footsteps grew quieter, and the door clicked shut.

*

Sun hadn’t called in two days. 

Detective Mun didn’t know he was keeping tabs until the thought had sprung up in his mind as he entered the elevator in his apartment building. It was a simple utilitarian structure, one fairly close to the Seoul Metropolitan station. The perks was, he could oversleep and still make it to work in five minutes. The downside -

He shook his head. No. He was pretty sure he wasn’t followed. After Chun Hei’s father’s men, he was careful. Plus he’d taken the long way today and stopped at the park where he jogged in the early mornings on his days off. The scenery helped him think.

The elevator door creaked as it closed, and the platform he stood on wobbled slightly. He pressed “5” and waited for the familiar creaking sound, the one that indicated the elevator was moving instead of broken. 

_Question one: what does Sun have to do with a woman in London?_

_2, 3…_  

Maintenance ought to get this elevator checked. Surely, this was some kind of violation, using machinery so old. Maybe he should issue a warning. But his area of expertise was murder, not safety protocols. A lot more dangerous; a lot less paperwork. Usually. 

_Question two: what does said woman know about Sun that she so desperately wants to tell me?_

_4, 5_. The door opened to an eerily quiet hallway. 

The third question halted on the brink of his awareness as he darted his head back and forth, trying to pick up sensory cues from his surroundings. Normally the quiet didn’t bother him. And it _was_ two in the morning —  he’d been working a late shift.

But there was something off.

Quietly, he tip-toed to his door. He found it ajar. Someone had picked the lock and didn’t bother to extract the pin. So he kicked the door and let it swing open with full force. The door knob thumped against the wall, making a dent. He reminded himself to get it fixed.

For now, though, he was more concerned with the three foreign men in black standing in his living room, pointing their guns at him. 

A quick glance told Mun they weren’t wearing bulletproof vests: their uniforms clung tightly to their muscular bodies, and the black was more for show, though he could make out the needle holes and wears in the fabric near the left side of the chest. There had been something identifiable there: a name tag? A logo? 

“Really? Three against one?” He spoke in English and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m flattered.”

“We’re not here to fight,” said the curly-haired man in a grating baritone. He stood closest to Mun. In fact, he was the first one to step forward and point the gun. It didn’t take police academy training to figure out who the leader was among them.

“Huh.” Detective Mun looked at his weapon. “Seems aggressive for a peaceful negotiation. Or are you here to kidnap me?” 

“We’re here to show you the evidence you asked for,” said Curly.

“The evidence?”

A second armed man with a skull tattoo on his neck stepped in. “Incriminatin’ evidence regarding Sun Bak’s involvement. In those fuckin’ global biological terr’rist attacks,” he drawled, unamused.

_Sun. Involved in… biological terrorism. Right._

Mun should have been scared, but the allegation sounded more ridiculous than the ones from the police chase thrillers he spent his evenings binging. So against all that was sensible, he snorted. Curly moved a step closer and pointed the gun a fist’s distance away from Mun’s chest. Tattoo copied his gesture, and the other person stood and glared.

“Is this about the mysterious phone call?” Mun asked, eyeing the men with a ticked eyebrow. His arms were getting sore. “Do you all work for her?”

“What we are involved in is greater than you or me. A matter of great urgency. I would suggest you treat this matter with respect,” said the third man — a green-eyed man, he could see it now. 

He’d recited the whole line without blinking with a slight tremor in his voice. Compared to his friends — Mun scrutinized the way his nervous finger clutched the pistol in his hand — he seemed a lot less experienced. A new recruit?

Mun chuckled. “Ahh. What movie is this from?”

Curly sighed, stepping in again. “I think it would be best if you see for yourself, if you don’t believe our words.”

Mun scanned his living room and the open kitchen area, scrutinizing every inch. Most of his things had been left untouched except for the couch cushions, which had been tossed aside. Clearly the men had made themselves at home. He wondered how long they’d had to wait. Though if they could’ve stalked him all the way to his apartment, he’d assume they’d have been notified of his work schedule, too.

And there was no sign of anything else. _Anyone_ else. His arms were getting numb. He ought to find a way to lower them without being shot… again.

“So this _terrorism_ she’s involved in,” he said lightheartedly, completely unconvinced, “you say it’s a global problem? Like, all the recent attacks were linked?”

“Yes,” said all three of them.

“And S- _Miss Bak’s_ responsible for spreading the disease?”

“N-Not exactly,” answered Green Eyes. “But she… She works for the people who do.”

“Right.” Mun tilted his head. “I assume you’ve brought evidence?”

“The evidence we have ain’t printed. ‘S not a criminal record, or one o’ those scientific data bullshit.” Tattoo lowered his gun. “Best we can do ‘s take you to ‘er.”

Seriously? “If you boss knows where she is all this time, and she kept her there, she could be tried for harboring a fugitive, you know.”

“Miss Bak’s involvement is complicated,” said Curly. “We could not simply extract her from the organization she works for.”

“Where is this organization?”

“London,” said all three.

“Convenient,” said Mun. Just four months ago, he was there for a friend’s wedding. Crazy how everyone around him were getting married, while he hadn’t got a date in three years. “My tourist visa hasn’t expired. I expect you’ll want me there as soon as possible?”

Green Eyes straightened his back before speaking again. “We were ordered to extract you. And… And take you there directly.”

“Sounds a lot like kidnapping.” Mun eyed their guns again. With a sigh, Curly lowered his weapon, and nodded at his friends to do the same. _Finally_. He lowered his arms, and blood rushed back into his cold hands. “I can go by myself and conduct my own search.”

Curly scowled. “This is not a negotiation -”

“Look, I need to collect Miss Bak for the court to hear testimony, so I’ll _go_. You can take my word on that. And your boss is in no place to make demands. The Seoul Metropolitan Police has an international warrant out for Miss Bak. Know what this means? She’s wanted everywhere. Including London.”

Tattoo growled. “She’s hiding, workin’ behind the scenes. There’s no witness -”

Mun held up a finger and stopped Tattoo in the middle of the sentence. “Now this woman, your boss, is withholding information from the authorities. And all phone calls to the station are recorded. Pity she didn’t call my personal number.”

Curly didn’t hide his squirm in time. 

Mun chuckled. He’d dealt with people like their boss, people who thought they were above the law, and made every effort to show it. If she knew where he lived and where he worked, she probably knew his cell phone number. But she’d called the station to make a statement. To prove how mysteriously threatening she was. 

This self-entitlement would be her undoing.

“So we have evidence she’s threatened an officer. _Me_. And now this - this home invasion. If you take me to London and expect me to arrest Miss Bak, I can assure you she won’t be the only one coming home with me.”

Green Eyes’ shoulders stiffened. “You won’t find her -”

“She and Miss Bak know each other, don’t they?” 

This was the most satisfying part of a confrontation: the way his enemies looked at each other uneasily and shot him half-hearted glares, knowing they’d lost at this leverage game. 

He looked the men in the eye, one at a time. “If you won’t talk, Miss Bak will. And if she’s been silenced, I’ll know who’s responsible. Something tells me you’re not a fan of prison.”

“Say you’ll come on yer own,” said Tattoo. “Then what?”

“Well, I’ll be grateful for your tip-off. I won’t arrest you. But I don’t expect us to be friends, and I certainly don’t expect us to collaborate.”

Tattoo and Green Eyes looked at Curly, who frowned but said nothing.

“If you have more clues, tell me before I book my flight. I won’t be in touch.”

“My boss will text you the address,” said Curly.

Of course she would. Now, he had been standing for way too long. If these men had no more use for their boss than to act as failed escorts, and they weren’t willing to talk, he may as well get rid of them.

“I’m expecting company in -” he glanced at the clock on the wall - “an hour or so. Just some friends from the station. We’re gonna get a few beers and watch _Criminal Minds_.”

Silence.

“You’re welcome to join us, if you’re into that.” He smirked. “But I don’t think they’ll be too thrilled when they find out _why_ you’re here.”

“Reckon he’s lyin’,” said Tattoo. 

“I could be. Would you rather stay and find out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this second part of the massive chapter. It got way out of hand, as things tend to do with me. Oops!
> 
> I've got finals next week, and then I'm gonna fly home for the holidays. And I have to work out a few details in my outline to bring you all closer to the epic climax! So you might have a longer wait before I can post again. Just a heads up.
> 
> BEFORE YOU GO. My lovely friend @greenmountaingirl started a new post-canon fic series with a brilliant idea, which features all our wonderful Sense8 children. Her first piece is a Sun x Mun one, so for those of you who need a fix after this last section, you know what to do! As a beta I am very much biased, but either way, here you go! Do what you will with this information :) (Hint: READ THE FIC!)


	28. What we are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are a few speculations and many heart-to-heart’s.
> 
> “Who we are is less relevant than what we are, and what we are is different from them.”   
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn't Let You Say Goodbye”
> 
> **TW for depictions of torture.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! DID YA MISS ME?
> 
> Between finals and the holidays and my birthday and my brain being on 200% vacation mode, I had to force myself to write, but write I did, and write I will... eventually :) 
> 
> In case I can't post again before 2018: I wish all of you a happy new year with lots of love and lots of feels, in fics and in real life <3

******August 1, 2017 (cont’d)**

“You were right, Veronika.”

The woman in question glanced up from her desk, scrutinizing Lila and Ragnar, who stood before her. “You’ve come to surrender?”

 _I’ll never surrender to the likes of you._ “We know it’s only a matter of time before you find us at our hideout,” Lila answered. 

The disdain in Lila’s tone seeped through every word. Veronika raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look to be suspecting them. Yet. The bitterness _was_ a reasonable reaction — of course Lila and Ragnar would have been less than pleased.

“Where are the others?” asked the Russian.

“Not all of us could be persuaded,” said Ragnar. He spoke in a full Estonian accent, now that Cal was Blocked and they couldn’t rely on his knowledge of the language.

“Strange. I thought Maitake would be the most sensible among you.”

“Sensible?” Lila scoffed. “Cocky’s more like it.”

“Do elaborate.”

What would be a reasonable explanation for his absence? Or Marcela’s, for that matter?

“Maitake thought it’d be foolish, turning ourselves in.” _Be smart, Lila_ , came his voice in her head, a memory of the advice she heard too often before they Blocked themselves off. “He said he wouldn’t trust you to keep us alive.”

Ragnar nodded next to her. A curt, affirming nod.

“Yes. You might be useful to me still. Both of you.”

Lila widened her eyes and forced herself to chuckle. Appearing eager would trick Veronika into thinking she’d bought the lie. (And make herself look foolish. Pathetic, but they were, unfortunately, desperate enough.) “You’ve got another soldier attack planned?”

“I do. But don’t get ahead of yourselves,” said the older woman. “Your Jonas tip-off was of great help. But I have yet to locate the two members of your cluster you’d stolen from my own medical facilities.”

_Stolen? We seized them back._

Ragnar scowled, a mannerism characteristic of the stage magician. This was going smoothly so far. As smooth as anything could go with Veronika, that was. “We can’t have all our lives at your mercy, Veronika. You of all people should understand our need for leverage.”

“Of course.” Veronika stood up. She was looking at her coat rack ten minutes earlier than her usual time for departure. What was her hurry? Late-night dinner with a valued client? 

Lila stopped herself before she could make eye contact with Ragnar and give away their intention. They hadn’t said all they needed to.

“We’re not going to simply tell you where they are,” Lila added, effectively stopping the woman in her tracks. A small victory.

“I don’t expect you to. Not unless you’d like to exchange them with the other two?”

What did Veronika think they were? It was all or nothing. And nothing wasn’t an option they were going to take.

From the way Ragnar’s fist curled and the veins bulged on his hand, Lila could tell her cluster-mate thought the same. “Consider that your leverage. For now,” he said.

“Of course, I could release them on other conditions.”

“You want to know the location of our hideout?”

A dangerous glint crossed the Russian’s eyes, accentuated by the signature tick of the corners of her red lips. “You know me, Lila. I’m a fair woman. They’ve made their loyalties clear. As had the two of you.”

“We don’t betray our own kind,” said Lila, as planned.

Veronika’s reaction was like they’d anticipated. “Have you forgotten about Wolfgang?”

The woman was bringing up to his name to get a reaction, and Lila loathed to say it was working. She tutted her tongue, trying to appear irritated, though not taken aback. “We don’t betray our own _cluster_.”

“Then it’s a stalemate,” said Veronika. “We can’t move forward unless you change your mind. Negotiations like these would get us nowhere.”

“You need us for your next operation,” Ragnar pointed out.

“Your skills will be of great help. But the attack can be conducted without you.”

Of course. With the number of sensates under Veronika’s command, Lila knew there’d be eager, foolish volunteers, groveling like pigs looking for fodder. “And afterwards?” she asked.

The Russian made her way to the coat rack without saying anything.

Like they’d planned, Ragnar stepped forward and removed her black trench coat from the rack with both hands. He fumbled around for three seconds before he drew back one hand, held the coat by the collar with the other, and handed it to her. 

“Enjoy your evening,” he said, the sarcasm apparent in his voice.

“I will.” 

Veronika looked surprised, but she accepted the coat and put it over herself, adjusting the collars. The dagger brooch they’d swapped was in the exact same position as the original. She wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

She walked out of her office, heels clicking against the marble floor, and paused at the door. The two of them made to follow suit.

They went down the elevator in silence. Before they reached the ground floor, Veronika said, still looking ahead, “It’s up to you, who stays, and who goes. Take your pick.”

Lila resisted the urge to seethe. “Understood.”

“And be quick.” The door opened, and Veronika stepped out. They stayed back to give her space, keeping their expressions neutral. “I am giving you time to negotiate now. After this operation, I will not be as willing.”

“Understood,” Ragnar echoed.

They waited until the woman had left the building before making their own ways out the door. All things considered, they’d done what they had set out to do. Ragnar fiddled with the brooch tucked inside his sleeve, and shot Lila a rare smirk.

In a matter of minutes, Maitake and Marcela would be able to pick up the signal from the bug they’d planted into the back of the replica brooch, and hear Veronika’s voice.

*

Amélie seemed like a good judge of character, Kiira decided.

Based on her observations, young children have an intuition for who they could trust. The moment she and her allies had sat down on the train, the toddler had clambered onto Will’s lap, stood, and grabbed a fistful of the collar of his shirt to keep herself steady, knowing the cop wouldn’t scold her. Upon Will’s look of exasperation, she’d yawned and decided the man made for a good climbing post, sleep deprivation be damned. Then she’d tried to grab his ear with her other hand, but failed when her eyes shut despite her command.

Will had spent the past half hour trying to convince the child to sit down. _Riley_ had spent the past half hour taking pictures with her burner phone, chuckling to herself. Meanwhile Kiira alternated between trying to plead with Amélie in French on Will’s behalf and laughing with Riley, occasionally snapping a photo or two to keep for herself.

They had boarded an overnight train to Oslo two hours ago, but none of them, save for the child, were in the mood for catching up on sleep. Fortunately Nomi had booked them a private compartment. A strategic decision, as was Kiira’s own decision to leave Capheus in Paris and go to Oslo with his allies.

 _Dr Thorsten knows who I am. BPO would be expecting us together,_ she’d told him upon seeing the disappointed look on his face. _We’re less vulnerable if they can only find one of us._

Kiira knew he understood the logic behind the separation. The ideal situation would have been if Jonas wasn’t caught at all, and their safe house in Paris remained safe. From catching up on the days of their early lives, she’d learned what Capheus was like as a friend and ally. There were even moments when it felt like they’d been siblings all along — a shared smile when they’d found something in common, before they were reminded, once again, of how much they didn’t know.

“Hey.” Riley put down the burner phone and scooted closer to Kiira on their seat. “We’ll see him again. In London.”

“Right. London,” she mumbled. 

She stared out the window and tried to make out silhouettes of buildings in the darkness, some indication of where they were passing — somewhere in the north of France, but which city? The lights were on inside the train. Outside, the roads were barely lit.

Amélie had given up trying to climb and settled into Will’s lap, head leaning against his chest. All three of them looked at the child without speaking until it was clear she had fallen asleep. Will laid her down on their bench and pulled out a blanket from his duffle bag to lay over her before tucking a folded shirt under her head like a makeshift pillow.

“Does Clara know the new address?” he asked Kiira. 

The young mother had agreed to come to the Oslo safe house and reunite with her child prior to their next BPO invasion, once they found out when and where Veronika was staging the next attack.

“Henrik passed it on through the Archipelago. He told me this morning.”

“Good.”

Silence again. 

There was nothing outside the window they could see, and the door to the compartment was locked from the inside. Still, it was all too clear, from Will’s stiffened posture and Riley’s look of unease, that they anticipated something would go amiss. 

Not everyone behaved in this paranoid way. But Kiira shifted in her seat too, ready to leap into action should someone burst through the door… Or — though it was less likely, given the velocity of the train — the window. 

It would appear the level of anxiety Kiira and her allies had over the next step of their plan was directly correlated with the level of BPO-inflicted danger they’d been exposed to. Will and Riley had spent the past year on the run, hiding out in abandoned shelters. So had Nomi and Amanita. Wolfgang had been a prisoner in BPO and (she swallowed) exposed to their torturous ways, to which Kala and Felix, too, suffered the consequences.

And Kiira herself had been taken hostage to assist in a lobotomized soldier attack. She never thought she’d find herself in the midst of the action at any point in her life. Except when she was expected to perform a brain surgery. 

Neither would anyone, logically speaking. People liked to believe they were exempt from statistics, and the tragic things that happened to the minority of people would never happen to them. But being a sensate in a world dominated by _Homo sapiens_ had taught Kiira to defy the common _sapien_ logic she’d been raised to follow and fine-tune her mind to picture the worst possible outcome of every situation.

“I wonder how Jonas is holding up,” Will mumbled. Perhaps the silence was getting uncomfortable. Or perhaps he wasn’t aware he was thinking out loud.

“He’s an experienced sensate,” Kiira pointed out, keeping her voice low in case Amélie was a light sleeper. “I’m certain he has ways to shield his mind from invasion. _If_ he decides to keep our secret, that is.”

“I don’t know what to think when it comes to Jonas,” Riley confessed quietly.

“Jonas held up to torture before.” Will looked at Amélie, who was still sleeping soundly, before he continued, “But then he decided to rat us out to save his own neck.”

A fair point Kiira supposed. But… “Was he usually under Milton’s interrogation?”

“From what I’ve seen, yeah.”

“They’ve got other Headhunters,” Riley caught on. She turned to Kiira. “You think they’ll try someone else?”

“I could think of _one_ Headhunter _,_ ” said Kiira, unaware of the uncharacteristic bitterness in her own voice sounded until she saw Riley’s flinch. “Pelzer’s got a different strategy.”

“Wolfgang says he’s more -” Will cringed - “ _physical_ in torture.”

“Mavis said the same. And I second that, from what I’ve seen.”

“What kind of Headhunter was he?” Riley asked softly. 

From the worried look in Riley’s eyes, Kiira knew she was trying to spare her feelings. But it _was_ important information, so she recalled the way he’d sidestepped into her consciousness in-between commanding his own soldiers.

“I don’t feel anything when he was in my head,” Kiira told them. “I know when he’s trying to see what I’m seeing, but there’s no… _presence_.”

Will and Riley nodded. They had done their fair share of interrogations, so Kiira was sure they understand what she meant. The signature impression a sensate’s mind could bring to another was difficult to conceal.

“You know about Empathetic Connections?” Kiira asked. 

If she were to tell them her theory on how Pelzer differed, this seemed like the most reasonable starting-off point. She didn’t know how much Capheus’ cluster knew about their powers, though these days it was getting harder to remember they’d been reborn three years later than she was.

Will sighed. “ _Jonas_ told us.”

“Mavis told me Headhunters find it difficult. This lack of empathy? It’s part of the reason these people became Headhunters.”

“You think Headhunters lost their cluster?” asked Riley.

“Could be a motive to join BPO’s side,” Kiira agreed. “We got acquainted with our empathy through our cluster. If they’d lost theirs early on, bitterness seems a likely outcome.”

“You think they lost _all_ of their cluster?” asked Will. “That’s…”

Kiira chuckled. “Not all clusters have so many people. Mine doesn’t.”

Will thought about it. “Whispers’ had three.”

This conversation reminded Kiira of the early days of her rebirth, when she and her cluster gathered around someone’s bedroom and speculated about the nature of their newfound connection. They’d experimented with these powers, too, starting with the vision they’d taken turns sharing with Gabriel. “The average birth rate in the world is four births per second. Most of which, mathematically speaking, would be _sapien_ births.”

“Could there be more unborn sensates than _sapiens_?” asked Riley.

“It’s possible. Right now it’s hard to tell.” 

 _Except_ , Kiira’s mind supplanted, _the neuroscientists associated with BPO are trying to encourage genetic testing for less than altruistic reasons. Perhaps they’d find more_ Homo sensorium _than they’d bargained for._

Will frowned. “So the average cluster’s a lot smaller. Makes sense.”

“There’s other ways a cluster’s size can change,” Kiira added.

Riley looked down at her lap. “Early death.”

Kiira nodded. “Precisely.”

Will looked at Riley with concern. Riley looked up and gave him a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It seemed like an intimate exchange, so Kiira looked at the sleeping toddler on the bench to give them some space.

“You’re saying the Headhunters could’ve been reborn into a small cluster?” asked Will, prompting Kiira to look back at him. “Or -” his voice lowered again, so much Kiira could barely hear - “ _no_ cluster?”

“That’s what my theory is about Pelzer,” Kiira told them. “Maybe he was reborn by himself, without a cluster.”

Riley and Will looked at each other, communicating in the silent way characteristic of close couples. Kiira, too, was reminded of how fortunate she was to be born with a larger-than-average cluster. 

She remembered the insufferable migraine — because who could forget that? Yrsa had told them the younger someone was at the time of rebirth, the more it hurt. Imagine going through all of that pain, only for your Parent to inform you that you were still alone with nothing but the new, supposed ability to link minds with strangers.

“It’s a dangerous power to have on its own,” said Will, echoing her thoughts.

“According to my theory, Pelzer would be able to read thoughts and memories after making an Optical Connection with another sensate, but he wouldn’t be able to share,” said Kiira. “He’d be envious of that. That’s why he gets a thrill from commanding the soldiers.”

Will and Riley exchanged a worried look.

“And the worst part? Whatever Pelzer chose to do with his newfound powers, there would be no emotional repercussions. No resistance from his cluster, because there isn’t one, and there never had been.”

“No one to stop him,” said Riley.

“No one to stop him,” Kiira agreed, “from eliminating his kind. From eliminating sensates who have more powers than he ever will.”

*

**August 2, 2017**

One thing Mavis had learned about Genevieve, the last time she’d stayed at her cluster’s safe house, was that the woman could never just _sit_. Sometimes she’d hang upside down from her favorite couch. Sometimes she’d opt to sit on the floor, hug her knees against her chest, and lean against the legs of a chair. 

Or, like now, she’d sit cross-legged on the seat and prop her elbows against her legs to read _MacBeth_. A habit that, apparently, irritated Leon to no end.

He nudged her knees with his elbow, his other arm pressed against the wall of the train next to the window. “Oi, Gen, gimme some space, would ya?”

She rolled her eyes and looked up from her book, wild red curls clinging to the back of the bench with static electricity. “First of all, _never_ call me Gen. ‘S what people call my gran.”

“Not my fault you’re named after your gran,” Leon mumbled.

“Second -” she prodded him on the arm with the spine of her book - “ _never_ interrupt me when I’m reading Shakespeare.”

“The Golden Rules, my man,” Damien piped next to Mavis, fully awake.

The two had been watching the silly exchange across from Leon and Genevieve to kill time. Their train wasn’t due at Oslo for another four hours, and although it was an overnight train, none of them had been able to sleep. Even the kid, though Mavis suspected his energy level had to do with the half-finished coffee he’d drunk from Henrik’s mug.

Leon gawked at Damien with a look of utter betrayal as he ruffled the top of Genevieve’s head with his elbow. “Since when are you on her side? You’re breakin’ my heart, mate.”

“A fair man takes no sides,” said Damien.

Genevieve swatted Leon’s arm away. “What movie’s that from?”

“ _I made that up_ ,” the kid stage-whispered to Mavis. “We there yet? This is taking _forever_.”

 _Kids_. Mavis sighed. “We’ve got hours.” Then she nodded at the bickering pair, who were now trying to out-noogie each other, “Should’ve brought popcorn.”

Damien pulled out two snickers bars from the pocket of his hoodie and handed one to Mavis. “I got something better. Stole it from the pantry.”

Gina would kill Damien if she’d found out. She’d kill Mavis, too, for encouraging the kid. But right now Mavis was a sleep-deprived sensate on an intermission in-between battles, and sugar was a welcome change, time of day be damned.

With a conspiratorial wink, she told the kid, “I saw nothing.”

The candy bar had melted a bit from being in Damien’s pocket, but it tasted the same. They ate and watched the ever-escalating exchange, smirking until Leon confessed, “Ya know what? Shakespeare’s an old tool. Stop - stop _whackin’_ me!”

“ _Ohhh_ ,” said Mavis, all scandalized. “She’s gonna kill him.”

“She’s gonna kill him _and_ toss him out the train,” said Damien.

Sure enough, the Irish woman put the book down on the pullout dining table and grabbed Leon by the shoulder, her gaze deadly. “Leon Okechukwu Tucker,” she said slowly, enunciating every word -

Damien and Mavis put their hands around their open mouths and exchanged a look.

“- take that back. _Now_.”

To their horror, Leon’s smirk widened. “Just bein’ honest.”

Genevieve let go of him. “Fine.” She turned away and hugged her knees to her chest. “You’re dead to me, Leon. _Dead_.”

“And this is why I don’t like Shakespeare,” he mumbled, turning his head the other way. “Old Pretentious Git, Ruiner of Friendships since the sixteen-fuckin’-hundreds.”

Yeah, this was a never-ending feud. Damien took another bite off his candy bar, and Mavis nibbled on hers, watching the drama unfold. It was much more entertaining than catching up on gossip back in BPO. Much less risk of being caught dead, literally.

“What was that?!”

Leon raised his hands in surrender. “Nothin’, _Your Majesty_.”

Genevieve huffed, before she grabbed the book from the table, opened it again, and went back to reading like nothing had happened. “I thought so.”

Mavis let out a whistle. “Wasn’t so bad the last time I was here.”

“Oh, they got worse,” said Damien. “Try living with this for two years.”

Poor kid.

Leon, completely unfazed by the squabble, pulled out a sketchpad from the inside pocket of his jacket and a charcoal pencil. The one thing Mavis learned about the Englishman was that he never went anywhere without art supplies. Which included, but was not limited to, a pencil and three sketchpads.

He turned, crossed his legs, and leaned on his side against the back of the seat. With the pencil between his teeth, he thumbed through the sketchpad to a new blank page. His cluster-mate had gone back to her book, and was now buried face-deep between the pages with a scrunched-up her nose. Everything else had become background noise.

Unbeknownst to her, Leon traced the outline of her silhouette on the brown parchment. 

Mavis turned to Damien and quirked an eyebrow; the boy reciprocated with a Leon-esque smirk. “Is this what I think it is?” she whispered.

The kid nodded yes. “Same old sketchpad. Barely used.”

The sketchpad with the parchment paper had been dubbed as “the crush journal”. The other two journals were frequently used and replaced: one with black paper for pastel drawings, and one with white, reserved for gel and fountain pens. But this one, the pencil-and-parchment one, was saved for the most precious of occasions. 

And a peek at the contents, as Leon was flipping through the page, had confirmed what Mavis had suspected: most of the drawings featured a certain Irish woman.

Leon shot them a glare, to which they responded with a wink. Then Damien puckered his lips and pretended to kiss the air, making heart shapes with his hands. Leon tossed one of their packed sandwiches over. Mavis pulled the kid out of the way before he could become the target of the projectile.

Sensing his defeat, a flustered Leon went back to sketching like nothing was wrong.

Genevieve looked up from her book with a tilted head. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Mavis and Damien sing-songed, exchanging another smirk.

*

The Oslo safe house reminded Riley of home. And it wasn’t because of the wooden furniture and whimsical art on the walls, or the fireplace, or the smell of apple pie from the kitchen oven, courtesy of her new house-mates. It was because her father was there, playing the _Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major_ , eyes closed and humming in a music-induced trance in front of the grande piano in the living room.

Will had, sheepishly, admitted he’d gone to Iceland in secret to ask for her father’s blessing. She was surprised he was able to convince papa about everything. More so when the Archipelago had informed them of the only vacancies available as shelters: a safe house in Oslo, and one in Manchester. The fact that she was to be reunited with her father before the next battle seemed too good to be a coincident.

Her father stopped playing and scooted over in his bench. She sat down and leaned her head against his shoulder, lips quirked in a nostalgic smile.

“Remember when you used to sit like this and watch me play?”

“I remember.” She chuckled. “You let me play along. Like a duet.”

“You made it your own.” He stroked her hair. “You always had a good ear for music.”

_Thanks to you._

Riley looked at the keyboard, then back at her father, eyebrow raised in challenge. He picked up from the section he left off, his hands ever-so-expertly dancing across the keys. 

If she closed her eyes, the song was just as she’d remembered.

She hesitated when her fingers made contact with the instrument, and thought about letting him play on his own. She hadn’t touched a keyboard since she begun her career as a DJ. This, though, was nothing like turning a dial.

“Don’t think too much,” he whispered, still playing. “Play by the heart.”

The first note she played clashed with the chord her father had struck. She cringed, but kept playing, conjuring her memory of the piece. A minute later she’d found notes that worked in harmony with the original melody. Before long, muscle memory took over, and her fingers found their own ways around the piano without her mind’s command, forming simple additions to the original music.

But papa didn’t close his eyes like he used to. His eyes were trained on the new ring on her hand, watching the colored fragments in the fire opal shimmer under the warm glow of the lamp. She ducked her head low and met his eyes.

“It suits you.”

“It fits perfectly,” she said in return. Will told her he’d known as soon as his hand made contact with the ring. It was just like him to memorize the feeling of her hand.

Her father chuckled. “I like him.”

“You talked to him for an hour, papa,” she joked.

He sped up the song, and she followed suit, not shying away from his improvised challenge. “I’m a good judge of character, Riles.”

“I’m surprised you believed him.”

“The brain scans helped. All that _scientific evidence_.” He said the last two words with a chuckle, like he was quoting someone who actually care about empirical data. “But that’s not what convinced me.”

“Then what did?”

“It was instinctive.” He moved one hand away from the keyboard and touched his heart.

Riley nodded. It was this exact feeling, that day in the abandoned church in Chicago, that compelled her to stay, to talk to the stranger who claimed to have seen the woman in their shared hallucination.

“I saw Will at my door, and I _knew_. I knew he was there to talk to me about my girl.”

“Quite intuitive of you, papa.”

He resumed playing with both hands, slowing down the melody as the song drew to a close. “I’ve got a special eye for this.”

“You see beyond the mortal world?”

“I see with my heart. And my heart said to hear him out.”

“I’m happy you did.”

They finished the song in silence, but neither of them made a move to stand up. The music lingered around the living room like some kind of invisible reverberation. Standing up now would disrupt the peace.

“Me, too. You seem happier, dangers and all.”

“I am.”

Her father turned to the stairs when he heard footsteps, but no one came down. Riley supposed everyone else was readying up their rooms. The kitchen timer went off, and she stood up to retrieve the pie, her heart singing in glee at the familiar scent of cinnamon and buttered crust.

“You’ve got yourself an army,” he joked. “Will told me he’s a cop.”

“And we’ve got a hacker, a champion fighter, a chemist,” _a matatu driver-turned-activist, a world-famous actor, and a thief who shot up a whole house of gangsters_ … though the last profession was an explanation she’d save for another day. Her dad was pretty overwhelmed as he was.

He tapped the side of his head. “Now you know all their trade secrets?”

“Not now.”

“Ahh,” his voice lowered. “The medicine?”

“Blockers. Yes.”

“Does it get lonely? Not having the voices in your head?”

She shook her head. “I know I’m never alone.” _Not anymore._

*

After Kala had spent time with Mr Hoy in Scotland, they had become trusted acquaintances. Her shared sensacity with the old man had been a good starting-off point; but when it came to chemistry, they made the best, albeit unlikely, partners. 

So when the Scot and his companion Kristy showed up it the Paris safe house with ingredients from his lab — ingredients Kala could use to perfect her formula for the anti-Blocker _and_ develop a fast-acting explosive, mind you — she was beyond ecstatic.

They arrived late, and most of Kala’s cluster and allies had finished dinner and gone back to their rooms, save for Felix and Wolfgang, who were watching that singing show on TV the latter liked so much. But Kala had waited to eat. Everyone knew the two were coming, and Gina had saved them some phanang curry. 

Mr Hoy clapped her on the shoulder on their way to the kitchen. “Good to see ya, lassie. Been testin’ chemicals without me, eh?”

She smiled. “It’s not the same without you, Mr Hoy.”

“Seems I’ve made quite the impression.” 

Kristy spoke up after they’d heated the leftovers and sat down to eat. “He hasn’t stopped talkin’ about you. Said it was no surprise Riley Blue’s invisible friend’s a chemist.”

An invisible friend made visible. Kala wondered if that was what all the _sapiens_ allies felt when they met the people behind the name — a large degree of shock, weighed down by the fraction of disbelief. Perhaps she could devise a script, or a brochure, to make the introduction of sensate powers easier. Something informative, but not overwhelming.

“I’m honored to work with you,” she told Mr Hoy. 

He waved her off. “No need to thank me. You’re savin’ lives. I’m helpin’.”

“Were you okay? After we -”

She and Wolfgang and Felix had took off for Paris the moment Will told them the lab had been discovered. Mr Hoy and Kristy had insisted on finding their own ways to an Archipelago safe house, and there wasn’t much time to argue before -

“We were in that Manchester house,” said Kristy, before she could finish. “Moved out and made space for some of your other friends, haven’t we?”

Kala cringed. They had moved out of an unknown hideout into one that Jonas may or may not reveal under interrogation. They had -

“Ahh, don’ worry,” said Mr Hoy. “You’ll get us out in time if BPO comes by. They’re no match for your explosions, eh?”

They spent the rest of dinner in friendly chatter before Kala and Mr Hoy moved down to the lab to experiment with _real_ explosions. 

“You’ve already tested them?” asked Kala, a little disappointed. She didn’t know if there was any place nearby where they could have tested the prototype, but, as Felix had pointed out before he’d walked out and left them to their “evil science”, she was addicted to bombs and other explosive devices.

“Aye. Saved ya the trouble, lassie.” Mr Hoy winked. 

“But where did you -”

“Found an open field outside Manchester. Not a soul around for miles.”

And that was the end of that discussion.

The prototype they had designed, before Kala’s urgent departure with her allies, was a two-parted glass tube, which could be easily shattered if someone tossed it to the ground. They’d sealed the tube with a rubber stopper, on which Mr Hoy had managed to drill a hole and secure an oiled rope made from an old cloth. Inside the bottom half of the tube, they planned to store an unfinished liquid solution. And the compartment on top was going to be filled with a powdered agent that, when combined with the solution and fire, would trigger an instantaneous explosion.

Kala and Mr Hoy had already finalized the formulas for the liquid and the powder. The problem now was how anyone could hope to carry a fragile glass instrument around without shattering it by accident. Worse, if the rope came in contact with a lighter -

“I think I’ve got something for that,” said Henrik, peeking his head in through the lab’s double doors. “Okay, _Leon’s_ got something for that.”

He showed them eight metal tubes Leon used to carry his colored pencils. The man had an impressive collection of two hundred colors, divided into packs of twenty-five each. To Kala’s amazement, the glass tube could fit snugly inside the container with a bit of wiggle room, and the lid fit over everything nicely, making the weapon easy to extract during an emergency without causing unwanted damage.

“Perfect,” said a beaming Mr Hoy.

“Now all we need is a name,” said Henrik.

Kala chuckled. “Do you name all your weapons?”

The Dutch man shrugged. “Just the remarkable ones.” He looked at the prototype type, inside which a neon blue liquid sloshed around, and large, oily bubbles drifted around the top in a lighter shade of blue. “This looks like something straight out of Genevieve’s science fiction book.”

“It wasn’t blue the last time we mixed the solution,” said Kala, frowning.

“I added a bit of food colorin’. Thought it was a fun lil’ touch.”

After he assured her it had no effect on the explosiveness of the product, Kala shrugged, conceding. She and her allies seemed to have established, some time ago, through some unspoken and unanimous vote, that blue was theirs team color.

“Looks like lava lamps,” Henrik pointed out.

“Works like a grenade,” said Mr Hoy.

A quick visit upstairs to the boys later, “the lava grenade” was the new name for their secret weapon. Felix had wanted to test out the explosion, “just to double-check that it works”. But, for the sake of everyone’s safety, Kala had to refuse.

The rest of the evening was spent conducting much less exciting experiments. By the time Mr Hoy had jumped up from his stool with an _aha!_ , nearly fallen over, and steadied himself by gripping onto the side of the table for dear life, it was nearly midnight.

Kala peeked her head over the top of the beaker after steadying the man. “Mr Hoy, the reactant you added, it’s -”

“Gone. Evaporated, by the looks of it. Like it should’ve been if we got the solution right.”

“That was it?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Mr Hoy shrugged, chuckling. “Seems like it.”

They mirrored each other’s look of glee, but were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“It’s nearly midnight.” Kristy tutted her tongue, pushing her way in with a tray of tea and blueberry scones in one hand.

“We know,” they said.

Kristy laid down the tray and sat down. “Finished your invisible weapon, did ya?” 

“Aye. We can un-Block the Blockers now. One injection.”

“Can ya, now?” She shoved a scone into Mr Hoy’s hand. “You’re invincible!”

“Should work in a minute after injection, give or take.” He bit into the scone. “Mm. Didya add somethin’? A secret ingredient I should know about? ’S not your usual recipe.”

“If I did I wouldn’t tell ya. It’s why ya keep me around, innit?”

He shrugged. “’S not the only reason, Kristy.”

“Oh?”

“Ya also make the best shepherd’s pie in all of the Highlands.”

Kala sipped her tea and watched their exchange. Their bickers reminded her of her father and auntie. If she closed her eyes, she could picture her mother shaking her head, exasperated at the way those two behaved at the dinner table. 

For the first time since she said goodbye to Rajan, Kala found herself missing home.

But it wasn’t just home that she missed, or her father and auntie, or her mother. It was a life, a simpler life, that she couldn’t go back to. She wouldn’t trade Wolfgang for the world, but what about her parents? Could she really stand losing one for the other?

Kala didn’t realize some time had passed and Kristy had gone back upstairs until Mr Hoy tapped her on the shoulder and offered her the last scone. She took it with a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the faraway look in her eyes. A quirk of his eyebrows told her she’d failed.

“Thinkin’ about home, are ya?”

“How did you know?”

“What, ya think I hadn’t got a family of my own?”

She didn’t - of course he’d - “What happened to them?”

“Same thing that happens to all of us.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Not _dead_ , lassie.” He laughed. “Well, my parents passed away two decades ago. Dunno about my brothers -”

“Your brothers?”

“Had to leave ‘em behind after me n’ my cluster was prosecuted five years ago, see. I told ‘em nothin’. Just got up n’ took off in the middle of the night. Safer for ‘em that way.”

“It is.” She agreed, examining the scone in her hands.

“After that Headhunter - Whispers, ya called ‘im? - after he stopped lookin’ for me, I got up n’ left the Lowlands and moved up north to live with Kristy. We could’ve gone back for my brothers, but I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, BPO told ‘em I died. Wouldn’t be all jolly for me to show up at their doorstep after that, would it?”

She shook her head no.

“But that wasn’t the only reason,” he admitted. “I thought about goin’ back. Thought about explainin’ what was happenin’ to me — the sensacity, Ruth El-Saadawi, all of that. But I got scared.” He sighed. “Didn’t know how they were gonna react to all this. Didn’t know if they were gonna believe me.”

Kala swallowed. “I know the feeling.”

“Ya do?”

“I feel the same thing with my parents, I -”

It wouldn’t be wise to tell him the details of her life. By now Kala knew Mr Hoy wasn’t working against them, but considering he hadn’t even told them his real name, she decided to keep things vague.

“- I made a mistake. A big mistake. I know my parents will be disappointed with me, so I haven’t talked to them.”

“They don’t know what happened?”

“I don’t think so, no.” _If_ Rajan kept his promise. She liked to think he would, if he was the kind of person she thought he was.

“Ya plannin’ to tell ‘em before you n’ your cluster march off to your deaths?”

They weren’t going to die. Not on her watch. But either way - “I _should_. I know I should. But I don’t know how.”

“Best way I know ’s to tell the truth.”

“I don’t want them to be disappointed with me,” she confessed.

Auntie used to say Kala set such high standards for herself, and her parents, in turn, had more expectations for her. The first time she said this, Kala was in school — she’d skipped second grade and gone right to the third. 

In Kala’s defense it was her teacher’s suggestion, not hers. Parvati Miss had called her parents in to her office and explained the situation, something about “potential” and “more challenges”. Her mother had worried she’d miss her friends; her father had suggested they let Kala make the decision.

The week after, new textbooks in tow, Kala had picked a first row seat in her new classroom and sat down twenty minutes before classes started. She’d been thinking about this day, and she pictured herself learning harder things; she pictured herself making friends; she pictured herself answering all the questions.

She didn’t picture an older girl standing in front of her desk with crossed arms and a sour look on her face.

 _Hi._ She looked up. _I’m… I’m Kala. I’m new._

The girl narrowed her eyes. _You’re that smart kid, aren’t you?_

 _Umm, I wouldn’t say I’m -_  

She didn’t know what she could say. “I wouldn’t say I’m smart?” That could backfire. The girl could laugh at her for admitting she wasn’t smart. There were so many ways this could backfire. And on her first day, too!

So instead she asked, _What’s your name?_

 _You’re in my seat,_ was the response.

 _S-sorry!_ Kala stood up, shoving all her books back into her bag. 

Her classmate was a full head taller than she was, and she didn’t want trouble. So she stood by the door and waited for the teacher to come and tell her where to sit. But Jyoti Miss told her to pick a seat anywhere, and Kala realized there was no such thing as assigned seats, and the girl was simply being mean.

During math class, Kala had volunteered her answers like she always did, and her teacher had been pleased. But not everyone else, judging by the dirty glares they’d shot her, complete with giggles and whispers. That day, she realized she had to choose between being right and being liked.

Following Kala’s confession, Mr Hoy sat back and scrutinized her for a few silent moments. “Ya care about what yer parents think. You’re close, aren’t ya?”

She looked back at him, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. Was she that easy to read? 

Maybe she was. Maybe she always had been. 

Her parents had known something was up a week into her transfer. But she’d insisted she was fine. Without Kala to volunteer answers, lessons progressed slowly. So while her exasperated teacher went through the multiplication table over and over to a baffled majority, Kala finished her work in silence.

After school she’d stopped by her favorite temple and told Ganesha she did well, offering the untouched puran poli she’d saved from her packed lunch as a tribute.

 _I finished my homework before lunch, Lord Ganesha. And today we recited the multiplication table up to eight times eight, and I got it on my second try. I didn’t tell anyone, but I did it in my head — and I didn’t cheat! I promise. Anya Gupta got it on her third try, but -_ she’d leaned in close like she was sharing a secret, and whispered, _\- I was the first._

 _Were you, now?_ came her father’s voice behind her.

She startled and fell forward. If it weren’t for her father holding her back, she’d have planted head-first into the plate full of bananas someone else left as a tribute in front of the statue.

He kneeled next to her. They spent a few minutes looking at Ganesha in silent before he asked, _Do you want me to pack you an extra puran poli tomorrow?_

Was he not going to bring up what he’d overheard? Or was he mad? Would he bring her back to the restaurant before he’d lecture her on… “wasting opportunities”? 

_Dad, I -_

_I’m not going to force you to speak in class, Kala._ _I remember when I was in school. I used to get so embarrassed, I’d turn redder than a Kashmiri chili._

She frowned. _Were you… like me?_

 _Oh, no!_ He laughed. _I was terrible at math. Every time the teacher called on me, I had to stand there and wait for one of my friends to write down their answers and pass me a note._

That made her laugh.

 _But you?_ He turned around and faced her. _Your answer would have saved some poor kid from the same embarrassment._

 _Dad, I…_ she mumbled, looking down at her hands. _They don’t like me. They don’t like when I know everything before them._

 _That’s because they don’t know you. If they know you like how I know you_ \- he gestured to Ganesha - _or like_ he _knows you, they might think differently._

She shrugged. _Or they won’t talk to me at all._

 _Or that,_ he conceded. _But if that’s the case, I think you’re trying to please the wrong people._

_You think so?_

_I do,_ he said, before he stood up and held out his hand. She stood up with his help.

She waved goodbye to Ganesha before following him out. _Why?_

He reached for her hand. _If they can’t see how wonderful you are? If they can’t see what I see? They’re not worth your time._

“’S always hardest when ya have good parents,” said Mr Hoy. “Ya wanna try your best to make ‘em proud. I know the feelin’. I was the same way.”

“So what did you do? Have you ever -”

“What, disappointed ‘em?” He paused. “I thought I would, once when I was a wee boy. But I told ‘em the truth, ’n they weren’t disappointed, I don’ think. Just shocked.”

He wasn’t divulging the details of his own life, either. But Kala knew he was honest. After she had lived a lie, it was easier for her to determine what was true.

“They understood me in the end, ’s what I mean,” he continued. “So don’ worry, lassie. ‘M sure your parents’ll come around.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean look at ya.” Mr Hoy gestured to her and the contents they laid out on the lab table, the yet-to-be-filled tubes and the clear solution in the beaker, ready to be placed into syringes. “You’re doin’ a real hero’s work here. All of ya.”

“I wouldn’t say hero.” Now she was blushing full-on, she was sure.

“Ha!” He poured the anti-Blocker solution into a test tube, which he sealed with a rubber stopper. “Hero or not, if I were your folks, I’d be proud of this.”

Kala chuckled. 

That wasn’t quite what she imagined herself doing when she decided to pursue a career related to chemistry. But she must say… she liked this version a lot better. She got into the pharmaceuticals industry with the intent of saving lives. What better way to save lives than to build secret weapons in preparation for a surprise invasion?

“Your brothers would be proud too, Mr Hoy,” she advised.

“Whatcha’ goin’ on about now?”

“Your brothers. If you find them and explain yourself to them, I’m sure they’ll come around.” She put the test tube with the solution and their prototype explosive into a locked cabinet. “Give them a chance.”

He chuckled in defeat. “We’ll see about that. When I can go out into the world without a target on my back, we’ll see.”

*

After everyone else except the scientists had gone to bed, Felix and Wolfgang went back to the kitchen to have drinks. Wolfgang popped open the old bottle of Stolichnaya he’d found inside the cabinet, ignoring the protests of an understandably unamused Felix. (The poor man wouldn’t touch that drink with a ten foot pole after the embarrassing shit he’d pulled when he was fifteen.) 

Felix said he’d missed going to pubs every night. But after all the crazy shit they’d been through, drinking in the kitchen at 11 P.M. seemed like an acceptable approximation.

Wolfgang poured himself a shot. “So. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Sure you’re not coming with us, Wolfie?” asked Felix.

“Kala has to stay to use the lab,” Wolfgang answered, by way of explanation. He sat down on a high stool by the kitchen island.

Besides, he had a feeling Felix didn’t really want him to come with. His only travel companion was a certain Mexican woman.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Felix announced, fishing through the fridge for a pounder. 

Clearly, anything to do with Kala these days worked as an acceptable explanation for Wolfgang’s behavior. Felix was catching on.

“Suit yourself.”

Felix sat down, too. “Sure you don’t wanna join her down in the lab right now?”

As tempting as the offer was, he knew Kala wouldn’t be pleased if he’d disturbed her in the middle of her project with Mr Hoy. “I think she’s got plenty of help.”

“Mm.” Felix popped the can open and sipped the beer. “You’ll only slow her down.” 

At that, Wolfgang smirked. Off the top of his head, he could name five ways to distract his Kala from building her bomb. Three more, at least, if he was down there in person.

“Not just that.” When it came to ladies, Felix always knew what he was thinking. “I mean you’re a shit chemist.”

The perks of having a shared mind was, he suddenly found himself excelling in many areas he previously knew nothing about. “Not when I’m off Blockers,” Wolfgang retorted. 

It was technically true. Felix knew it too. “You were a shit chemist before all that psychic mind-reader rebirth thing, and you’re a shit chemist now with that creepy pill you’re taking. Remember Margrit Havenstein?”

“Who?”

Felix looked at him like he had three arms. Like this whole ordeal with BPO never happened, and he was explaining his sensate situation to his friend for the first time. But, dramatic guy that he was, he took his sweet time and downed half his beer before he continued, “ _Margrit Havenstein_. Your lab partner back in Hauptschule?”

Wolfgang was glad the kitchen’s lights were dimmed. If Felix had seen him blush, he would never have heard the end of it. “Oh. Her. I remember.”

One minute he was adding a chemical whose name he couldn’t remember into a boiling beaker per his teacher’s instruction, and the next, he found himself in the midst of a foamy explosion, and a distraught Margrit shrieking beside him as most of the sticky solution landed on her blouse. In retrospect he’d realized he’d added too much of the reactant, resulting in the nightmarish yellow concoction.

He’d apologized, but she didn’t talk to him for the next three years.

“Kala’s been teaching me chemistry,” he said.

Felix snorted. He took a swig of his beer before breaking into a shit-eating grin. “Is that why you’re in your room so much?”

Fucking Felix. Wolfgang knew he could never resist making a joke about his new boyfriend-esque habits. He gave Felix a playful shove.

“I went across the fucking ocean for you, and what do you do? Leave me for a beautiful woman who made bombs for a living.”

“She didn’t make bombs. She worked for a pharmaceutical company.”

Felix raised his hands in surrender. “She’s corrupting you.”

Maybe she was. And, really, he was more than willing. Over the past year he’d come to realize that Kala had more darkness lurking beneath her innocent surface than he’d thought, to his delight. 

He didn’t realize he was grinning like a boy with a crush until Felix was waving a hand in front of his face. Clearing his throat, he righted himself, and poured another shot of Stoli.

“She’s changed you, Wolfie.”

Wolfgang downed the shot, welcoming the burn at the back of his throat. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, as calmly as he could.

“I don’t need to be a fucking psychic like you to know you’re smitten.”

“Sensate. Not psychic,” he corrected.

“Fine. _Sensate_. You got one of those freaky sci-fi mutations, and now you’re in love.”

Wolfgang shrugged, not bothering to suppress his smirk. “She’s different.”

“Yeah.” Felix took a sip of his beer. “She’s different, alright. All those explosions? You’re a match made in fucking Heaven.”

A quirked eyebrow. “Thought you said I’m going to hell.”

“You and me both. But who knows? Maybe she’ll be a good influence.”

“She is.” He realized he missed talking to Felix. It was fun, to catch up just like old times. Speaking of catching up - “She’s not the only one,” he added, filling in the silence.

Felix paused for a second, clearly surprised that for once, Wolfie-the-stoic had taken the initiative. “I don’t see who else can get your stubborn ass to change your mind.”

“I’m not talking about _me_ , Felix.”

Upon hearing that, Felix choked. When he spoke again his can of beer was still hovering in midair, gripped tightly in his hand. “Please. I’m not stubborn.”

“You’ve changed too,” Wolfgang insisted.

“It’s all your fault.”

“It’s not my fault you have a crush on Dani.”

Felix laid the can down. “If you’re gonna give me a warning, you can save it.”

Wolfgang raised an eyebrow.

“Lito already beat you to it,” he explained.

“Yeah? When?” 

He really had been spending too much time in his room with Kala. Judging by Felix’s incredulous look, he knew his brother thought the same.

“On the flight to Beijing. You know, right before we walked into a literal fucking deathtrap.”

“Sounds like Lito.” Wolfgang pictured Lito glaring at Felix with all the professionalism of an action hero. It was… amusing, to say the least. 

“Guy was fucking scary on the plane. And Sun was encouraging him.” Felix sipped his beer again. “They ganged up on me. You could have warned me. ”

“Would you have stayed away if I told you?”

Felix opened his mouth, incredulous. “Please. When have I run away from danger, Wolfie?”

That, Felix definitely had in common with Dani. And judging by the number of nights Felix stumbled to bed, bumping into numerous furniture on the way, it was clear who the victor was. “She’s tougher than you think.”

It was Felix’s turn to smirk. “I think I’m growing on her.”

“I don’t know, Felix.”

Felix startled. “What? What did she say? Did she say something?”

Wolfgang took his sweet time downing his shot. Felix glared on, unamused. Finally, he said, “I don’t know if she’s ready for a relationship.”

For the first time that evening, Felix looked serious. “I don’t blame her.”

They were silent for a while, their past unspoken. Wolfgang knew Felix had spent most of his life learning how to deal with his shit excuse for a family — Felix claimed their shenanigans were worth the hassle. With someone like Dani, he would have suspected something by now, though none of the Cluster felt it was their right to divulge anything.

Of course he and Dani got on well. Lito had even admitted to Wolfgang once, when they stayed up for a night shift a week ago back in Paris, that the two had a lot in common. Though Lito had done his best impression of a glare and told Wolfgang not to tell anyone he said that. For everyone’s sake, Wolfgang had obliged. 

“She’s a good friend,” said Felix. There was a lingering sadness to his expression, a glum shadow of unrequited infatuation in the way his smirk stopped just below reaching his eyes. “Good dancer. Fun to talk to.”

That, Wolfgang could definitely see. 

“I think I’m getting better at this drinking game of ours,” Felix continued. “Two truths and a lie. Guess wrong, take a shot.”

For the second time, Wolfgang found himself steering the conversation to cheer up his friend. Maybe he _had_ changed. “I don’t remember the last time you lost a drinking game.”

“I end up taking more shots, see. I’m a shit liar.”

Wolfgang snorted. Felix could spit out more lies in a second than he could shoot bullets. Over the past years he couldn’t count how many times he relied on Felix’s ridiculous quick wit to get out of sticky situations at a pub. Of course, most of these situations were caused by Felix in the first place. “Sure you are,” he said.

“Shut up, Wolfie.” Felix downed the rest of his can.

Before Felix knew it, Wolfgang had procured another shot glass, which he slammed in front of him along with the half-full bottle of Stoli. 

“Prove it,” said Wolfgang, his tone challenging.

“Prove what?”

“Tell me two truths and a lie.”

Felix eyed the shot. “I’m not drinking that piss.”

“Afraid you’re gonna lose again?”

“No!” Felix said immediately, sitting up straighter. “Wolfie, have I ever lost a drinking game with you?”

Had he? Wolfgang recalled the evenings they hung out at the bar — the stumbling and crashing and passing out that ensued later in the night, right before dawn. Truthfully, they seemed to have gotten the same level of drunk every time.

“See?” Felix smirked. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Not with Dani.”

Felix raised his hands in surrender. “She might be an exception.” Then, sliding the shot glass towards himself, “But you’re not a special case.”

Special case, huh? 

Wolfgang poured himself another shot too. His throat did still burn from the last one. It’d been… what - days? weeks? since he’d had anything alcoholic. 

“You first,” prompted Felix.

“Me?”

Between them, Wolfgang was the shit liar. He’d always relied on bluntness to get things done. This could get interesting. What would Kala say, if she found him piss-drunk at eleven in the evening in the kitchen next to a smug and sober Felix?

“You, Wolfie. You started this.”

“Fine. First… Lito rescued me from Steiner,” he said, giving in.

It was about time he came clean. He hadn’t told Felix what happened that day in the parking lot besides “he won’t bother us again”. But with the impending doom that his then-unknown aunt had inflicted on his kind, what he did with Steiner seemed… mild. 

If taking out his cousin by exploding his car with a bazooka in a parking lot was _mild_ , what the fuck had his life come to?

“Yeah? What did he do, helped you play innocent?”

Wolfgang shrugged. “Second. Sun’s a much better fighter than me. She’d beat me in a fight.”

He hadn’t tried fighting Sun yet, thought he could tell Sun very much wanted to. Maybe someday, when they could afford to be fully connected again. When Kala was at work. If he was going to lose — and he was sure Sun wouldn’t get out of the fight without throwing him down — at least he could spare himself the humiliation of Kala witnessing his tragic defeat.

Felix snorted. “Huh. And the third?”

What could he tell Felix that he didn’t already know? All the other two had to do with his cluster. The _sapien_ aspects of his life, Felix already knew from the inside out.

After some pondering, he smirked. “The first time Kala saw me was at her wedding.”

“The fuck, Wolfie. You just had to make a dramatic entrance?”

“She wanted someone to tell her not to marry Rajan. I felt it.”

“Sounds like something you’d pull.”

He smirked. “Which one’s the lie?”

Felix thought about it. “Has to be the first. Someone else could’ve saved your ass back there. Kala! It had to be her. It was one of her explosions, wasn’t it?”

“You’re wrong.”

“Don’t tell me you beat Sun? No way.”

The very idea of Sun losing to him was something he couldn’t picture. He’d seen her in action: she could do with her hands what he could accomplish with two guns and a bomb, and then some.

“You’ve lost,” he pointed out.

Instead of taking a shot, Felix nagged, “So when did you first see her?”

“At karaoke.”

Felix mumbled something to himself. He had that spaced-out look in his eyes he used to have whenever he was forced to do math at school. “Hang on. You mean _that_ karaoke?”

Wolfgang shrugged. It was the only time he’d sang in public after he’d given up the idea at age twelve. But instead of elaborating, he looked between Felix and the shot glass.

Felix groaned, wholly exasperated. He downed the shot, a sour look on his face. “Tastes like piss. Just like I remembered.”

Satisfied, Wolfgang decided to inform his friend that he did indeed see Kala at her wedding, though it wasn’t their first connection.

“Told you you’d be a charmer, Wolfie,” said Felix. “If only you’d talk to people.”

“She fainted when she saw me.”

“Well, shit, were you that scary?”

He supposed, in some manner of speaking, he was. It was certainly… more exposure than one would expect on a second face-to-face meeting. “I was swimming.”

Felix looked confused for a few seconds, before his eyes opened wide. He opened his mouth and let out a scandalized sort of squeal, a high-pitched half-shriek, half-chuckle. “You always went to that club where you - where they all -” he looked up and down Wolfgang’s body.

“Yeah.”

“Fucking hell, Wolfie. I though this whole ‘you being a psychic mind-reader’ thing would be the craziest shit I’d hear in my life.”

If only that was the end of the craziness. He hadn’t divulged the details of his run-in at the restaurant with Lila yet. But then, after the shit he’d pulled at his uncle’s, he didn’t think Felix would bat an eye if he mentioned he’d shot up a restaurant.

“Guess you made an impression, huh,” said Felix.

“Don’t mention it to Kala.”

“Why?” Felix flashed him a shit-eating grin. “You think she’s gonna be mad if I tell her I heard she saw you naked?”

Wolfgang thought back to what they said earlier — namely, her penchant for making explosives. “I’m worried about your safety.”

Felix scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

There was no point in getting into another “you’re going on a fucking suicide mission” debate. Really, the fact that Felix had volunteered to go to Manchester with Dani the next day (not that Wolfgang had to wonder about his motive) made him a bad candidate for the whole safety argument. Now that they were both involved, it was safe to say they were in equal amounts of danger, mind-connections aside.

So he poured Felix another shot.

Felix pushed the bottle away after Wolfgang had filled his glass. “My turn.”

“Okay.”

“Well.” Felix propped his elbow against his table, the smirk back on his face. “My first one is… England’s ruined for me. _And_ Paris. No way I’m taking another trip to either places after the life-and-death bullshit we went through.”

“Yeah?” Maybe Felix was telling the truth about him being bad at this game. It sounded exactly like the type of thing Felix would think.

“Second — I think you’ve fucking lucked out. Because Kala’s out of your league. Which is saying a lot, because the way I see it, Wolfie you’re way up there.” He raised a hand flat above his head.

It was no surprise his Kala had found a way to get Felix like to her, even if he’d been understandably indignant about the fact that she’d taken over most, if not all, of Wolfgang’s attention. It was that curious sparkle in her eyes and the contagious way she’d smiled that made him want to stay connected with her at the temple and in the café in the rain that day, just talking.

She was a great conversationist, and Felix _loved_ to talk. Which worked out perfectly.

“She is,” Wolfgang admitted. “You’re making this too easy, Felix.”

Felix raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Last one? I wanna go back to Berlin after this is over. To our normal life. Running the key shop, going to clubs, getting fucking drunk. This whole chase has been one death trap after another. I wanna stay alive.”

That made sense, too. As adventure-seeking as Felix claimed to be, Wolfgang knew his brother was happy in the routine life they’d built for themselves. The way he saw it, Felix was thrown into this BPO situation without a choice. He wouldn’t blame Felix for wanting to go back and forget he’d almost died. That they’d _both_ almost died.

But, he thought, recalling the reason they ended up playing this silly game in the first place, he didn’t know if Felix really would.

“The last one’s a lie.”

“Fuck.” Felix pulled the glass towards himself. “I really am a shit liar. Or are you psychic with normal humans now too?”

“Take the shot.”

Felix obliged after a dramatic, drawled-out groan that would have made Lito proud. This time, he’d made a choking sound afterwards to accompany his cringe of utter disgust.

“I don’t think you’ll want to forget all this,” Wolfgang explained, swiping his brother’s shot glass away. This night was supposed to be a break for Felix's liver after all the rounds of binge-drinking he’d done with Dani. If this continued, Felix would have ended up drunk. _Again_.

“There’s been some good things,” Felix agreed.

“Just things?”

“Fuck, Wolfie, you know what I mean.”

“So what’s your plan?” he asked. 

“Kala challenged me to ask Dani out, actually.”

 _Did she, now?_ He quirked an eyebrow.

“She said you’re gonna travel around Paris after this, and leave me the fuck behind in Berlin while you two do whatever it is you - you know what, don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

Right. Paris. 

But the city wasn’t just for them anymore. It was for all of his Cluster.

 _For your family,_ said a matter-of-fact voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Sun.

“You can come with,” he said. He could never leave his brother, as energy-consuming as keeping a Felix Berner around tended to be.

“I’m not tagging along while you two smooch it out in the middle of the road and run back to the hotel and grab a room without me, -”

Wolfgang wanted to say “we’re not going to”. But, he supposed, he’d be lying. And he didn’t do lying, especially without Lito around to make it believable.

“- but Kala suggested a double date.”

“Do you want that?”

“A date?” asked Felix. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Dani’s ready for a relationship.”

“Not now. But someday, if she says she’s ready… would you?”

Felix took a swig of his beer, then laid down the can and looked Wolfgang in the eye. “Yeah,” he said, completely serious. “I would.”

*

When a person was on the run, any indication of what was happening in the rest of the world was a welcome change. Which was why, after everyone else had gone to bed, Mavis and Kiira were joined on their guarding shift by a beaming Genevieve — and a very amused Riley, who had been dragged here by the Irish woman.

“What’s this show we’re watching?” asked Riley.

“Only the epitome of American crap telly,” said Genevieve.

_Oh boy._

Mavis snorted. This brought back so many memories. Most of which involved her last stay at the Paris safe house two years back. And most of her memories from _there_ involved -

“ _The Bachelorette_!”

“We’re spending the night watching grown men compete for a proposal from a lady they barely know?” asked an incredulous Kiira.

“We’re watchin’ ‘em ironically.” Genevieve plopped down on the couch, Riley in tow, and opened the laptop she’d brought from home. “’S good fun!”

“Ladies’ night it is,” Mavis chipped in.

Kiira shrugged, conceding. “More fun than simply watching the door.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Genevieve.

Riley looked at them with a frown, questioning their idea of “fun”. But she’d shrugged and followed along, only because she couldn’t sleep after the night she had spent awake on the train, followed by a long overdue nap at noon that turned into a nine-hour sleep. Her words.

They begun the show in silence. The only voices in the room came from the laptop speaker, and Mavis wondered what their house-mates would say if they caught the four of them crowded around a screen, invested in the lives of fifteen desperate men and a bachelorette. She pictured someone like Will backing away, hands raised in surrender, brows twisted in a “I don’t know what you’re up to and I don’t wanna know” kind of frown.

Not that she blamed him. Sometimes, it was better to walk away than ask questions.

Riley, the only person close to being married in this place, left the living room ten minutes into the show to cuddle with the cop in question. Mavis stayed, amused at the exaggerated _ooh_ ’s and _ahh_ ’s and _aww_ ’s sounds they’d taken to make every time some romantic cliché came on screen. She’d done things like this back in school — stayed up, killed time by making fun of pointless reality TV, and regretted it the next morning — but such luxuries were a thing of the past when you were invested in protecting your spy-identity. 

To everyone’s surprise, Kiira had become as immersed in the show as Genevieve herself.

The two of them talked over the desperate men trying to woo the would-be bachelorette, exchanging commentaries on how the overused tropes derived from societal norms had made everyday entertainment predictable. Really, it was more fun than the show itself. Two connoisseurs of Shakespeare and Carolyn Keene and Terry Pratchett, ditching the classics to critique mindless entertainment for the fun of it. It felt like some kind of documentary: A Commentary on Reality Shows — As told On the Run.

“This God-awful loss of novelty’s a real stink. Bit tragic, really,” said Genevieve.

Mavis turned to her. “Tragic?”

“The heteronormativity’s an overkill,” Kiira explained. “It’s sad how there appears to be a sole, tried-and-true way of appealing to the audience, the _straight_ audience, according to most show-runners’ understanding.”

That made sense, Mavis supposed. This whole “defaulting” business was the ultimate buzzkill for creativity. Heck, imagine if everyone had access to the mind of someone who’s “outside the norm”, as the perceived majority liked to claim. Because honestly? No one was that cookie-cutter, when it came down to it. 

(Except maybe the Headhunters, but even their sinister motives were different. Though they all did the same kind of killing. The kind that was equally despicable.) 

After spending ages trying to spy on people from inside their head, she’d _wished_ they’d be more freaking predictable so she didn’t have to keep an eye out all the time.

“I wish there’s a show that defies all this,” said Mavis. “I’d totally watch that.”

Genevieve chuckled. “If there is I’d have ditched _The Bachelorette_.”

“Maybe there is,” Kiira pointed out. “Or, there will be, if the world doesn’t fall to shambles thanks to BPO before then.”

No pressure or anything.

“Ha! Yeah,” Mavis agreed. “Let’s hope.”

*

“Angels,” said Bug over the phone. “I have arrived.”

From all the new leads they were planning to get, the hackers had decided it was easier to communicate if they stayed in the same physical location. The back-and-forth was not only a  safety concern (since anything digital had a way of being traced), but also involved signal problems, time zone delays… 

All the factors they couldn’t afford to get into the way of their planning stage. Plus, it wasn’t like Bug had a regular nine-to-five with a boss to answer to. So a day later, Bug had flown across the pond to London, seeking a transfer that would take him to his buddy’s new hideout.

“You know the address?” asked Nomi, not batting an eye at Bug’s antics.

“I have identified your location, yes.”

Amanita rolled her eyes. 

With a chuckle, Nomi said, “Great. See you after your next flight?”

“I shall arrive -” a pregnant pause - “in three hours and fifty-four minutes, according to my approximation, should there be no delays. Await my signal.”

“ _Bug_ ,” Nomi chastised. She pulled up the footage of the gate where her friend had just arrived. From the grainy camera feed, she could make out a teal fedora and a tiger-striped t-shirt. _Typical Bug_. “Less talking, more moving? Don’t wanna miss your layover.”

“Discretion. Right. Yeah. Sorry, Angels. Got carried away.” Then he added, in a giddy whisper, “My first mission!”

They exchanged a sigh and watched him suppress the urge to jump up and down on the spot, in front of a crowd of strangers.

“See you later, Bug,” Nomi insisted before hanging up.

“I kinda miss this. The way he talks,” said Amanita.

“Yeah. Same old Bug.”

From the camera, Nomi could see that Bug was making his way down, practically skipping. Three cameras later he was on his way to the next terminal. Nomi made to switch the camera system from terminal three to terminal two, but a glimpse of a black-haired man in a blue button-down emerging from another gate made her turn back. 

She zoomed in. It was a pixilated image. She could barely make out the man’s facial features, but the way he’d scratched the back of his head and pivoted on the spot to find his way, back straight and shoulders relaxed, reminded her of someone familiar.

“Does this look like -”

Amanita peeked over her shoulder. “Detective Mun?” 

Nomi nodded. “I could be wrong. But it looks _so much_ like him.”

“Yeah. What the hell? Why’s he in London?”

Nomi pulled up a software, the one she used to send anonymous texts to Felix, and searched for the Detective’s number that she stored. “Only one way to find out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend Gen asked if I could write a ladies’ night scene with them ironically watching The Bachelorette and it turned into this little insider joke and I have zero regrets! 
> 
> For those of you who are loving the Riley and dad scenes, just know there’s gonna be a bigger one coming up, and I’m NOT afraid to load on the feels.
> 
> FYI - I have the climax mostly planned, and it is looming closer and closer with every chapter. I may write out of order for the next few days just to get the hard stuff out of the way, so there may or may not be delays again in terms of the once-a-week posting schedule I'm trying to stick to.
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? Curses? Feel free to shout 'em in the comments.


	29. All of my demons have withered away (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nomi and Bug hack together like the good old days, and Will tries to give relationship advice.
> 
> “All of your demons will wither away  
> Ecstasy comes and they cannot stay  
> You'll understand when you come my way  
> Coz all of my demons have withered away”  
> — From S1E9, “Demons” by Fatboy Slim (feat. Macy Gray) (S1E6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the STARS, that took forever! Apologies! (Part 2 is equally feelsy, and I hope to have that out in a week's time. I HOPE.)
> 
> This week found me being dragged out to all sorts of places for food, which I didn't mind one bit, but also dragged away from my laptop, which very much annoyed me. Because we're getting close to the climax, AKA chapters 33 to 36, with this new 40 chapter arrangement.
> 
> I took a little time off writing (like, lol, a week, oops!) to re-plot all the action sequences based on the changes I made along the way as I was working on this fic. So THAT's done and I have no excuse NOT to wrap that up. You can expect me to write a LITTLE faster now that that's out of the way. Just a little.
> 
> But yeah, and then it's three chapters of bittersweet wrap-up flangst, plus the epilogue. WHOO! Who's excited to see our Sense8 babes win the WARRRRR?

******August 3, 2017**

“Do you realize it’s almost their birthday?” Felix asked Dani on the train. 

As far as Felix could tell, their train was passing by the middle of nowhere. Lots of grass, lots of hills. They’d be able to see some hint of Manchester in an hour or so.

Outside, dawn had broken. People bustled about outside their compartment, mumbling in that particular half-awake, all-cranky kind of way, judging by sound alone. Felix had pulled down the blinds of that little window on their door for some privacy, because he could never be too careful these days.

“Yeah. All eight of them. That’s crazy.” She leaned forward from across, propping her elbows against the dining table that sat between them.

“If we can get this shit over with before that, it’d be a nice present.”

“We should stay after and celebrate!” she squealed. “Oh my God! All eight of them. It’ll be one hell of a party. We have to plan!”

He leaned forward, too, admiring the way her eyes widened whenever she encountered something she deemed exciting, or unexpectedly profound, or both. “Doesn’t Lito have a movie to shoot?”

“Not ‘till September. Good timing, huh?”

“Must be fate,” he joked.

“Must be.” Then, after a pause, “When’s yours?”

“Mine?”

“Your birthday.”

“It’s in October. October 23rd. We’ll be home by then.”

“Aww. I’ll text you a _Happy Birthday._ ”

“I look forward to it.” He felt himself blushing.

That was an understatement. Felix was sure some stupid-ass grinning would be involved. But that text would be received in the privacy of his own apartment, and if anyone dared to ask about it later, he would completely deny feeling any hint of overreactive giddiness. 

“When’s yours?” he asked.

“August 31st.”

“Oh, shit!” He didn’t know. If he’d known, he’d have tried to get her a present. Somehow. While he was on the run. _Shit_. “We can throw in an extra cake.”

“I’m sure we have enough cake to spare either way.”

He chuckled, conceding. They’d probably have to bake a shit ton to accommodate everyone’s tastes. If they all slacked off, Hernando would be dead by the end of the day. 

“Hey, Felix?” she said, rousing him from his thoughts, “Could you… not tell the others? About my birthday.”

“Alright.” Felix frowned. “Why? You don’t celebrate it?”

“Not usually. But I did last year. The boys made me a cake.” The same year, he recalled, she said she’d had the best Christmas. Something told Felix her family was less than cordial on these occasions. “And in college, but back then my friends had to beg.”

“You’re not used to celebrating.”

He thought she’d nod, and they’d leave it at that. But, to his surprise — maybe it was all this hectic-ness with the moving around and the _trying not to get caught and interrogated and possibly killed —_ she said, “I’m pretty sure my parents forgot when it was.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice softer. Sure, his mom was busy working two jobs since his dad had left them and they’d moved from Wuppertal to start a new life. But she’d always remembered his birthday. “So, just… Nothing?”

“Our old cook, Belinda, she made me a secret cake every year. Those were the only celebrations I had before college.”

He opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but -

“No, it’s fine! I didn’t mind.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “All these relatives showing up to my party? They’d start another fight before it was time for cake.”

“Oh. Right.” 

She’d told him the type of things her family was involved in. And if being around Wolfie and his fucking excuse for a family was anything to go by, whenever profit was involved, people stopped giving a shit about playing nice.

“My dad wasn’t around most of the time. And my mom… She’s got her own things going on. She didn’t want me pestering her all the time,” said Dani. “Sometimes I’d go into the kitchen and watch Belinda cook. She didn’t mind my company.” The faraway look in her eyes seemed to add, “ _unlike everyone else_ ”.

“You still remember some of her recipes?”

“I do. When I moved to Mexico, those kept me alive for, like, a month.”

Dani chuckled. Felix smiled, too, picturing a small Dani with dashes of flour on her cheeks and chin. They’d helped with cooking, now and then, when all the psychic people were busy with war plotting and bomb-making. Maybe one day he’d be sweeping flour out of her hair, or starting a food fight. Both sounded equally appealing.

“What kind of cake do you like?” he asked. Not that he’d wait until August 31st and fly to Mexico and deliver it to her. She’d be in Who-Knows-Where, Hollywood by then.

“Sometimes Belinda experimented with new desserts. For family parties, that kind of thing. And I’d help her come up with the ingredients. Crazy ones. Most of them would have turned the kitchen into a disaster, but she listened to my suggestions anyway.”

In his mind, he mumbled a small thanks to Belinda for making her smile.

“I was like her beta-taster whenever she made something,” Dani continued. “If it happened to be August she’d wait until it was my birthday. I’d come to the kitchen after dinner, and she’d hide it somewhere for me to find. Like a scavenger hunt.”

“Did you have a favorite recipe?”

She nodded. “One year we ran out of ideas for cake, so she made this apple turnover. Her recipe’s different. She said there she added a secret ingredient to make it personal — I’ve been trying to work out what it was, but no luck. But I know she used Honeycrisp apples, so it was seasonal. Just in time for my 6th.”

“You’re making me hungry, Dani,” he whined.

It did cheer her up somewhat, but the sad look in her eyes lingered. “That was the last one she made. My dad sent her away the year after.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. It must have been hard, having a fond memory like that coupled with the realization that she could never get it back. “Did you know why?”

“I heard my parents arguing in my dad’s study, the day before they fired her. I think she heard something she wasn’t supposed to.”

“And they hired a new cook?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She wouldn’t let me near the kitchen. I asked her if she wanted help with the dishes. She told me I’d mess it all up.”

“You’ve done the dishes?” That was a surprise. He’d assumed Dani liked doing chores by hand so much because it was all new for her.

“Belinda taught me. I mean, we had a dishwasher, but she showed me how to do it by hand.” She smiled wistfully. 

He reciprocated with his own dopey version of a smile.

“And there was this song she used to sing around the kitchen,” she continued. “I still remember the lyrics.”

That song. Felix remembered Dani singing a Spanish song on the day he’d stared at her all smitten and gravitated towards her like a fucking magnet and (for some fucking stupid reason) decided to tuck the strand of hair that fell loose from her bun and startled the fuck out of her. He’d made things awkward, before he’d taken a step up and fixed it — more or less — after Lito’s intimidating pep-talk on the plane.

“Tell me,” he said.

She looked like she was hiding a giggle. “You want me to teach you the song?”

“I wanna hear you sing it.” He looked at the closed compartment door door. “Nomi got fancy with the tickets. I’m pretty sure this thing’s sound proof.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Dani gave in. She sang it in a soft voice, like she was sharing a secret she’d never speak of again. 

“ _En qué ha de concluir_

_El drama singular_

_Que existe entre los dos_

_Tratando simular_

_Tan solo una amistad …_ ***** ”

“I like it,” Felix said, at the end, just as quietly. 

He didn’t want to break the silence, or the smile on her face that crept up as she recalled the days in her childhood she’d spent with someone who cared what she had to say, busying herself with the chores other people would find boring. To Dani, chores must’ve been like an escape. Like Wolfie with that singing competition with the cheesy name. 

“What’s it mean?”

Dani smirked. “Where’s the fun in revealing all the mystery?”

“Then what’s it called?” 

He wanted to search it up on YouTube. Maybe on her birthday he’d send it to her — a cross-continental voicemail, with him belting out this song off-key with a terrible accent in the bathroom of his apartment. Because voices echo in bathrooms, and it’d sound like fancy karaoke. He imagined her laughing, or rolling her eyes… possibly both.

“ _Porque yo te amo_.”

“ _Porque yo te amo_ ,” he repeated in his best approximation of her pronunciation with a dramatic announcer’s voice, making her laugh. “I think I got it.”

“Where are you gonna go after this?” she asked suddenly, changing the topic. And he knew why: this was getting pretty emotional. A moving train wouldn’t be the best place for full confessions, and they’d already broken the rule, somewhat. Plus, would she really want to confess everything to someone she met a month ago?

“I - huh.” He frowned. “I don’t know what Wolfie and Kala are gonna be up to. Something tells me I’m not gonna like being a third wheel.”

“Oh God.” She groaned. “That would be terrible. Please don’t.”

“I don’t plan to. So I guess going back to running a key shop is out of the question. It’s boring as fuck if I run it alone.”

She quirked an eyebrow. 

“Alright, and the other stuff. The crimes. We’ve had enough trouble this year to last a lifetime. No more of this gangster blow-up gunfight shit.”

“I don’t think there’d be anyone left to fight,” she pointed out.

“We’re drawing out the worst, but there’s always bad guys. Most people suck.”

“Yeah. You’re right about that.” She leaned back in her seat and stared out the window, watching the English countryside go by.

“But I’ve decided most of them are not worth my time. Staying alive beats playing hero most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

“Right now I can’t resist. These guys messed with Wolfie, they messed with me.”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m here. They messed with Lito.”

“How will they fare without us, Dani?” Felix joked. “Us and our undying loyalty, our devotion to eliminating their enemies?”

“My boys said they’d be lost without me.” 

“I don’t know about me. Wolfie has Kala. She’s got him in check.”

“You could travel,” she suggested.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But not Europe, I’ve seen too much of that.”

“Have you been to America?”

“Nah. Never been outside Europe. Except that one time before my dad left, we went to Morocco. I don’t remember much of it. I was… four?”

“We’ll be in L.A. soon. You can come to California. I can show you around the coast.” Her eyes brightened again. “Maybe you can come into Lito’s set and see how it’s done.”

A tempting offer. If Felix wasn’t so preoccupied with staying alive before he could come to that, he’d have hopped on a plane and went. “Is he shooting an action movie?”

“Actually, we’re trying something new.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t wanna see all the secrets. That’ll ruin action movies for me.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’d like to. I’ll have to sort out some things in Berlin first.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“You sure you’ll be up to it?” Felix joked. Though in the back of his mind, he did wonder. “You’re not tired of me?”

Dani looked at him like he’d told her he didn’t know what _Homo sensorium_ was. “Are you kidding? I’d be bored without you.”

He wanted to beam. But he knew if he did, there was a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance he’d look like one of those sappy idiots people made fun of in sitcoms. So instead, he inclined his head and said, “Happy to keep you company, Milady.”

“Silly,” she quipped back, nudging his foot with hers underneath the pull-out dining table.

*

The Manchester safe house was like a hacker’s den. Besides Andy, María’s husband, there were a couple other people, mainly Veracity associates, who camped out around what was probably once a family library, sprawled across pull-out couches and blow-up mattresses. The Archipelago had arranged this for easier communication. There was only so much FaceTime could do. Collaborating in person was always easier.

Nomi knew Bug found himself very much at home among like-minded people. In fact he’d told her so himself, the moment he realized he and his old buddy weren’t the only ones handy with computers after the initial excitement of being in England as a hacker-spy had worn off. (“Holy shit, Noms. Holy _shit._ ”)

“Buddy -” Bug nudged her on the arm, typing frantically into his laptop like the movement was ingrained in his muscle memory - “hey, look at this.”

She scooted over in her chair and inched closed to his screen. Bug had pulled up a license plate registry which was being updated as they spoke. The words were tiny, but a few of the numbers looked familiar. “Are those -”

“BPO vans, registered since the beginnin’ of time,” Bug finished for her. “Well, the beginnin’ of 2010, when they bought these old vehicles from a supplier in Glasgow.”

“They’re coming into England?”

“South England.” He turned around, wide eyes boring into hers. “South and center. Likely a major city. Sound familiar?”

She froze. “London.”

“The capital city,” he confirmed. “No better place to launch an attack.”

“But _where_ in London?”

Bug shrugged. “All I can see’s which direction they were headed. They picked up their stuff from airports all over and drove everything down south. Don’t know where they’re storin’ these doomsday devices ‘till they launch the - whatever attacks they’ve got planned.”

“God, why can’t computers record everything for us?” Nomi groaned.

If Neets was with them she’d have cursed the hell out of BPO. But at the moment, she was helping Andy prepare breakfast in the kitchen.

“Too much extraneous data hoggin’ digital space,” Bug speculated. “And not enough nutcases like us interested in trackin’ everything down.”

“True,” Nomi conceded. “We’ll see if the Archipelago can find us something more concrete.”

“That some kinda _sensorium_ network? Inside your heads?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Bug didn’t say anything in return, but nodded and frowned in a “I’ll need another hour to process this thing before I can say _woah_ ” kind of way. 

Nomi went back to scrolling through the incriminating bank records of the higher-up _sapiens_ in BPO she’d found two hours ago. The amount of money these people donated to the morbid cause was astounding. Veronika’s personal bank account was highly configured and, at the moment, inaccessible, but it was clear these _sapiens_ had donated a fortune to lab equipments to the same organization. 

Once her cluster got proof BPO wasn’t doing altruistic charity work to help humanity, these people were doomed. Some kind of physical data would work best, coupled with photographic evidence. Most likely, they’d have to invade the Parliament facility again to collect the hard proof. They’d have to wait before blowing the building up to the sky, as impatient as Kala and Wolfgang were.

Nomi extracted the USB she used to backup all her new findings and put it in the hiding spot beneath the desk, under a loose floorboard. There was no telling how far the hackers working for BPO could get into their network, so for now, she was playing it safe and keeping multiple copies. When she looked up again, she found Bug’s face a few inches away from hers, sporting a gigantic grin.

“God! You’re giving me a heart attack! What is it?”

“Reminds me of the old days, before I got busted tryna hack into the Pentagon.”

“Bug, we hacked together on your boat, what, three months ago?”

“This is different.” 

He offered a hand to pull her up, which she took. They let their laptops continue their searches automatically, scanning through the sea of data out in the world like an eye that never blinked. Maybe, by some stroke of luck, they’d uncover the identities of more _sapien_ allies, people in cahoots with Veronika and numerous other illegal businesses and trades related to the organization.

Bug turned to face her, and she did the same, absentmindedly kicking a wheel on the leg of her chair with her foot. “How is this different?”

“Well, for starters, this time round we’re both in the know.”

“You know I had to keep this sensate thing a secret.”

“Classic hacker paranoia. I know. I think you got it from me.” He waved her off. “But there’s also this whole us-against-them kinda vibe. I mean it’s always us against them, but this time we know our enemies — these _sapiens_ on the records you pulled up.”

“And Veronika. Always nice to have faces to these names.” 

Names made it easier for Nomi to identify her targets. Names are reminders of what she was up against.

Bug chuckled. “You’re a lot more badass these days, buddy.”

Nomi could hardly afford to be “badass” if she had to run for her dear life 24/7 with no chance of getting away if anyone caught up to her. Luckily, she ended up with one of the most combative clusters. “Well, yeah. I’m basically a vigilante these days.”

“I remember you tellin’ me back in ’01 that you wanted to be one of those anti-authority do-gooders. An alias behind a screen. You didn’t wanna throw punches.”

“I’m not exactly an expert at fighting.”

“I ‘sppose not,” he agreed. “But you said that to me, the day you knocked on my door.”

She vaguely remembered meeting her strange friend in one of the neighborhoods her parents would never be caught dead in. But it was so long ago, and she’d spent most of her adult life trying to forget about her past criminal ways. “How did I find you?”

“You found me on Battle Realms and played a game with me. Probably tracked down my IP address, firewalls be damned.”

That did sound like her. “I know _why_ I looked for you.” _And how._ “I’m just surprised you still remember.”

Nomi had spent most of her childhood teaching herself to code on a public library computer. As time went on, coding turned to hacking, and the cyberpunk novels she’d carried home at the end of each day inspired her own heroic fantasies. But for Nomi, there was no citizens’ lives at stake, no doomsday plans she needed to stop. Nothing of such a grande scale when she was stuck in school.

Her parents had enrolled her and Teagan in a brick-walled private school with an emblem that looked like it belonged on a royal crest. The place was impenetrable, gated with black iron. They said it was to protect the students, but to Nomi, school felt like a glorified prison. She’d learned, from her observations, that the best place to hide from the bullies was in the library, under the watchful eyes of Mrs Walden, the librarian. 

Because when the real world was proving too difficult to deal with, she and the others found refuge in books. The library was their safe place. But the school board didn’t seem to care. In 7th grade, the board members decided to cut the funding for the library to do some refurnishing. She didn’t even remember what, specifically. Maybe a new paint job? It’d make the place look nice to people who’d never come inside.

Not if she had anything to say about it.

“‘Course I remember!” Bug clapped Nomi on the shoulder. “You were somethin’ else. Anyway, you knocked on my door, and you asked me if I could team up with you and hack into your school board’s account, and I thought, damn, this kid’s goin’ places.”

“Did you really think that?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, first I wanted to call the police ‘cause some random kid found me where I lived, before I remembered the cops hated my guts. But I’m glad I decided to help.”

After he’d agreed to help, Nomi had come by his house after school for the next three days, listening to his rambles about JavaScript and TCP scans and buffer overflows. Instead of simply doing the hacking for her, Bug taught her the step-by-step process for hacking into a financial account. She stayed each day until it got dark out. Teagan had her after school dance club, and her parents didn’t come back until nine in the evening.

After the two of them had moved some of the funding back to Mrs Walden’s library budget, Bug had invited her to a game of Red Faction on his PlayStation 2. They toasted to their victories with two cans of coke.

At seven thirty, she got up to gather her things. _Can I ask you somethin’, Mike?_ his voice stopped her in his tracks.

Nomi cringed at the name. Maybe she could come out to Bug. He looked too paranoid to talk to most people, and she was certain he’d never find his way to her parents. If she did, her parents wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to a guy they saw on a mugshot on the morning paper underneath the caption _Wells Fargo Hacker Released from State Prison_.

Then again, Nomi hardly knew the guy. Yeah, Bug talked a whole lot, but never about his personal life. Maybe she’d tell him eventually — but not yet.

 _Sure_ , she said, stopping to look at Bug.

_Why’s it so important to you? To hack and steal money from your school?_

She crossed her arms. _It’s not stealing._

He laughed in approval. _Sure. It’s not stealin’. Just movin’ what’s already there, right?_

 _It didn’t seem fair._ Nomi shrugged. _Refurnishing isn’t gonna help anyone._

 _I ‘sppose not,_ he agreed. _But why the library?_

_It’s for people like me. That’s where most of us go when we need some time away._

_People like you?_ Bug frowned.

 _People who are different,_ she explained, heading towards the door with her schoolbag. _I figured if they’re not gonna help us, we have to find a way to help ourselves._

 _Speakin’ like a true hacktivist._ He clapped her on the shoulder and escorted her out. _It’s been nice knowing you, Mike. You’re good at this - this hackin’ thing._

She stopped outside his door and turned back. _I’ll see you tomorrow_. 

It wasn’t a question, but if he didn’t want anything else to do with her, she could shrug it off and pretend it was.

Bug beamed. _Yeah. See you tomorrow, buddy._

“I’m glad you agreed to help me too, Bug.” 

She heard a chime on her laptop, which meant the system had found another _sapien_ who may have been involved with BPO’s transactions, and turned back to investigate.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Bug sounded smug as he typed in a command code into his beloved laptop, the one he’d hauled across the ocean. “You’re good at this hackin’ thing.”

“What can I say?” She smiled. “I had a good teacher.”

*

Leon approached Riley after lunch. She gave him a polite nod before going back to scrubbing a plate. He grabbed a spoonful of baking soda and spread it over burned bits off of a particularly difficult oven pan.

“Blimey, what did they make with this thing? Overcooked lasagna?”

“That was for the brownie, I think.”

He let out a dramatic Lito-esque groan. 

She chuckled. “You don’t have to help, Leon. I got it.”

“I know.” A grin spread across the Englishman’s face. He tied back his dreads using the hairband on his wrist and put on a spare apron. “But a chance to do dishes with Riley Blue? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I thought the novelty would have worn off by now,” she teased, running a few spoons under warm water from the tap. 

Leon added water to the pan and let it sit, before grabbing a bowl. “It’s been on and off. Bit hard to remember sometimes, when you’ve got all this war plannin’ in the basement.”

“Why? You didn’t expect Riley Blue to be a fugitive?” 

“Fugitive! Ha!” He stashed the bowl on the drying rack and examined their growing collection of clean dishes. “No. First off, I didn’t expect Riley Blue to be a sensate. I mean I knew you were badass, but a sensate renegade? Part of _the_ August 8th cluster?”

“You knew I was badass?” Riley turned off the tap and looked at him, amused.

“Well ‘course I did!” He leaned against the sink, his beam brightened by the yellow of his apron. “I was there, three years ago, when you were playin’ in Camden. And it was - all that light and fog and the base thumpin’ through the floor like an earthquake… Bloody hell, I thought I was losin’ it. No person can pull this off and _not_ be a badass.”

She frowned. “Was it that bad?”

“Mate, no, it was out of this world! But I was feelin’ all odd ‘cause I was reborn, what, four days before? I thought the music could get rid of that bloody migraine.”

Riley cringed, remembering her own experience. “Did it?”

“Nah. But it called Miki over.”

She smiled. “Did she like the set?”

Leon shrugged. “She told me she did, when we met in person. Before that it was all up here.” He tapped his head. “Seein’ through someone’s eyes. Know what I mean?”

A nod. “Was Miki your first?”

“I saw Gen first,” he recounted. “I was… Oh! I was on my porch, sketchin’ this bloke on the other side of the street wearin’ this brown bear costume — he must’ve worked for a zoo or somethin’ — anyway, I was sketchin’ this bloke, and then Gen showed up, peekin’ over my shoulder, and said, _‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where am I? And what in God’s name are you doin’ spyin’ on that poor man in costume?’_ ”

Riley suppressed a giggle as she finished cleaning the last of the mugs.

“Gave me a bloody scare,” Leon continued, starting on the pan he’d left sitting with the baking soda earlier. “Nearly fell off the porch, I did. Mind you, I was on the 5th floor. Would’ve been a nasty fall. But she grabbed me by the collar and was like, _‘Well don’t ya go ’n die now, ya haven’t introduced yourself. Now, are you a proper artist, or do you spy on people and sketch ‘em for fun?’_ ”

She sat down by the dining table, watching him work on the pan. “So you saw Miki second?”

“I reckon, yeah. Our minds sort of converged when you were mixin’ that 4 Non Blondes song… _What’s Up_! That’s the one! Anyway, I thought I was goin’ mad ‘cause I started seein’ colors. Bright colors. They ended up in this - this watercolor mix in my headspace.”

“Is that what chromesthesia looks like?” 

Ever since she’d heard about the unusual skill her new allies shared, Riley wondered how people like Miki would perceive her sets compared to the average audience. She had been told her music was sensational, immersive across five senses. What would that mean if someone’s senses overlapped, and the entire experience was amplified?

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Miki had a blast. It’s just overwhelmin’ after a few songs now that we’re connected. For her most of all.” With some more scrubbing, the burned parts came loose from the pan. He smirked, satisfied, and washed his hands after rinsing it all off. “We’ve been listenin’ to your set since we moved into Paris. Miki’s idea.”

“You said it helped you paint?”

He sat down across from Riley. “Miki’s been sayin’ I should pay her part of my share if I ever sell my paintings. ‘Cause I always listen to somethin’ these days if I’m workin’ on my art. Your set in Bergheim from last January, if I’m feelin’ particularly ambitious.”

“I’m honored.”

“You, Riley Blue, are a beacon of light. An invaluable source of inspiration.” He gestured towards her, like he was introducing her in front of a crowd on center stage.

Leon’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it made her laugh. “I’m glad my music helped. That’s why I became a DJ.”

“You’re a bloody good one at that! Plus you’re one of _us_. Say, has the sensate thing ever helped when you’re workin’?”

Riley smiled, remembering that night she played at Paradiso and escaped, with Will, right under Whispers’ eyes. And before that? When she was on stage, her heart rate intensifying at the thrill of it all? She hadn’t felt so alive in a very long time. “I haven’t got much chance. Except once. But it felt good.”

“You could make a whole experiment out of it, when we can all afford to be off Blockers.”

Kala would have loved that. Knowing Kala, she’d recruit sensate participants with all kinds of innate differences in the way their minds work, and test how their altered perception, amplified by their sensacity, could affect the way they engaged with Riley's music. And if that was the case -

“Would you be interested in a collaboration?” she asked.

Leon looked like someone had told him all the BPO _sapiens_ had been magically wiped out of this world with the push of a red button. “What, make art from your set?”

“Yeah. Or I can see if your art inspires a new soundtrack.”

His eyes brightened.

“Is that a yes?”

“Bloody hell, of course!” He clapped his hands together, like he was sealing the deal. “Two sensates - or, well, three, if Miki’s down - _three_ sensates artists against the _sapien_ world. We’ll be unstoppable.”

*

Lito towered over Will on the stairs, his signature glower etched on his stubbled face. Their Blockers had worn off at the same time that afternoon, and he’d come over before Will could remind him in their mind to take another dose. “I need to talk to him,” said Lito.

“Who?”

“Mun. I need to -” he tried to side-step Will and walk past him - “can I -”

Will chuckled, blocking his way. “Are you trying to intimidate a cop?”

“I want to know his intentions.”

Since when had Lito got it in his head to protect Sun? This was dangerous business. She’d be furious if either of them tried to meddle with her love life.

“I think Sun can handle it.”

“We don’t know why he’s there.” Lito shook his head, frowning. “He could be arresting her. He could have tracked her down and -”

“He’s been in Manchester for hours. And he didn’t fly there directly — Nomi said she found him in Heathrow and convinced him to come over. If he’s gonna make a move he’d have been gone by now.”

“That’s what he wants you to think!”

“Lito, I’m a cop, okay? I’m not gonna let him get away with this.”

“But you’re not there, Will. You’re - there’s an _ocean_ between you and him and Sun -”

The woman in question appeared behind Lito. Will suppressed a chuckle as he felt his face flush With a quirked eyebrow, Lito turned behind him to look.

“Sun!” exclaimed the actor in a high-pitched voice, extending his arms in welcome. “Your Blocker wore off!”

“The Detective isn’t going anywhere, Lito.” She cut straight to the chase.

“The _Detective_?” asked Will, hiding a chuckle at the formality.

Sun glared at both men before grabbing Will by the arm. She pulled him up the stairs until they reached the bedroom he shared with Riley, wholly ignoring Lito’s protest. ( _Get a Blocker, Lito,_ he heard Sun say in their shared mind before she shut the door in Lito’s face.) Riley tilted her head in question when she saw Will come in. He pointed to the space where Sun stood and mouthed her name, by way of explanation, and Riley waved. 

With a nod at Riley, Sun gestured to the walk-in closet, which was painted a generic white on the inside with no clothes hanging. Will opened the door and invited them in. Lito appeared by their side and tried to protest again, but before he could get a word out, Sun shot him a death glare, and he backed off, grumbling “but what if he’s lying?”.

“Why’s Mun in England?” asked Will when they sat down, their backs against the wall.

“Nomi asked him the same question after Andy brought him to us.”

Will waited for Sun to bring him up to speed.

“Some men — most likely _Veronika’s_ men — went into his apartment and tried to kidnap him. They said they would take him to London and he could find me there.”

A classic bait. But then, how -

“Mun said he bargained with them until they agreed to let him come alone. Veronika sent him an address. He was planning to go there from the airport.”

“Let me guess — the Parliament Facility?”

“Yes.”

He massaged his temples and sighed. “Good thing Nomi found him at the airport.”

“She told him where he could really find me. _Without my knowledge._ ”

It was so tempting to call Sun out: she was obviously not dreading the Detective’s company, if her relaxed shoulders and the smirk she was trying to hide was any indication. But with their ability to share, came the ability to feel the pain of her punches. And now was a terrible time for Will to receive an injury.

Sun nodded, approving his choice to stay silent.

“Did you bring him up to speed?” he asked instead.

“Nomi had evidence.” _The same evidence Kala used to convince Rajan._

“So? What’s his verdict?”

“He said with the number of enemies I have, it would be in my best interest to remain hidden until after the final battle.”

Will smirked. “Told you he’d come around.”

“He is a cop. I am a fugitive. Can you blame me for not trusting him?”

“But he’s not like other cops, is he?”

“You are right, Will,” she conceded. He is different.”

 _Different?_ he teased in their mind, smirking.

“I do not know many cops who would willing fly halfway across the world on the words of three foreign security guards who broke into their apartment.”

“You’d be surprised. Cops could do anything to chase a lead.”

 _You mean_ you’d _do anything,_ Will heard her think. _And Mun._

Sun sounded worried. Between him and Wolfgang ( _and Sun_ , though he was careful to keep the thought away in case she was in a punching mood), Will admitted patience wasn’t exactly their cluster’s strong suit.

“And now there’s two of you,” Sun added, unamused, having heard the thought.

Will took a moment to ponder what it meant for Sun to equate the Detective to himself. Maybe she’d come to accept the infuriating recklessness of the other cop. That certainly made trusting the other man much easier.

“Mun’s escorting you home after this?”

“The court needs my testimony for Joong-Ki’s trial,” she relayed what Mun had told her. “After Veronika is dead, there is no reason for me to stay in hiding.”

“I can come with you, if you like,” Will offered. He was sure Lito would have insisted on doing the same, but with his growing international fanbase, it wasn’t the most practical idea.

“Better Mun than other cops. And I can take care of myself.”

“He’ll keep you safe,” he reassured.

A ticked eyebrow. “Do I detect a hint of personal bias?”

“He believes you’re innocent, Sun. He’s not going to throw you back in prison to wait for the trial.”

Sun took a moment to sift through Will’s memories of his days in the police academy, pausing to find out the procedures for arresting a fugitive, assuming the process was more or less universal. “That will not be up to Mun to decide.”

“He’s operating outside his Captain’s orders right now,” he challenged. “Didn’t Nomi say he’s here on a traveler’s visa?”

“So?”

“You might be put on house arrest. Or he’ll plead with his Captain to keep you under his watch, somehow. But not prison.”

More silence, before the corners of her eyes lifted to hide a teasing grin. A flash of a memory coupled with the sound of a siren told Will she’d been snooping in his memories again. “You know a lot about operating outside the law?”

“I’ve had my share of teenage rebellion.”

She’d already seen glimpses of the days he stole from convenience stores out of sheer boredom. Though he’d never shown his cluster the full memory. He’d never shown what happened after his dad had caught up with him. Because how far did he expect to run, on foot, when a police car was chasing him down?

His dad had yanked him by the arm and pushed him into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. The way the door had rattled under the impact of his strength told Will to stay put. Will had been rebellious, sure, but he knew not to tread the line between triggering a temporary burst of anger and a full-on rage. 

Someone talked over the police intercom. He said a string of code words Will didn’t remember, but he knew it was another crime, another assignment. His dad got behind the wheel and sped through to the other end of the city. 

They’d stopped at a gas station, and his dad had gone inside and locked the car before Will could get out. A few minutes later he was hauling a lanky teenager by the arm, one handcuff already locked onto the boy’s wrist. The boy was wearing a hoodie with the Night Ministry logo — the homeless shelter, said his dad once, where his mom worked. 

His dad opened the back door and locked the other cuff to the handle on the door. Then he got behind the wheel and drove off. Will turned back to look, and the teen hissed, raising his other hand in a fist.

 _You! Keep your hand to yourself!_ his dad hollered at the teenager, before forcing Will’s head back, and they sped towards the station.

Will stayed in the car and watched his dad hand the teenager over to two officers. Then his door unlocked with a click, and his dad came over and beckoned for him to get out. 

 _You wanna see what happens to shoplifters, Will?_ his dad growled, pulling Will out by the arm before he could say he didn’t, not really.

He brought Will to the custody area and glared at the teenager he’d arrested, locked behind bars. They passed by two more cells, one occupied by another teenager, one occupied by a grown man, before they walked through the door to his dad’s office. Will sat down in the chair in front of his dad’s desk and crossed his arms, ignoring Officer Howard, who said hello from across the aisle.

 _Now you listen to me._ His dad bent down and forced Will’s chin up so they saw eye-to-eye. _You wanna end up like them? You can be my guest._ He glanced at the door separating his shared office with the custody cells. _You wanna shoplift? Go ahead! I’ll be the one locking you in._

 _You weren’t like this when she was here,_ he mumbled, swallowing back tears.

His dad let go of his chin, forcing him back. _She’s not here!_ He slammed his fist on his desk, and a folder slipped and fell to the floor. Will saw Officer Howard flinch from the corner of his eyes. _She’s not fucking here!_

 _Come on, Mike -_ Officer Howard tried to plead.

 _Stay out of it, James!_ said his dad. _And you_ \- he pointed a shaky finger at Will _\- you stay the fuck home when I tell you to. If I catch you out here stealing again,_ you’re _spending the night in this station._

“I’m sorry,” said Sun, when the memory ended. 

“It was my fault,” said Will. “I was trying to get a rise out of him.”

“You were a child.”

“Yeah, but I did what I did.”

She looked at him. “You have changed.”

“I’m not exactly a model citizen these days either.”

That was more than an understatement. Sun let out a dry laugh. “You are not like most officers,” she admitted. “You are unusual. So is Mun.”

“Hmm. Diego told me the same.”

“Did he?”

 _Well he said, “No shit, Gorski, you’re fucking weird”_ , he thought.

“That sounds like Diego,” she said.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “He told me that on our first day.”

Will’s first assignment with his new partner was to arrest a shoplifter. 

If his dad hadn’t been forced to retire, Will was sure he would’ve sniggered at the irony. 

Diego, too, found it hilarious, though back then he didn’t know the whole story of Will’s childhood. _Your old man’s a cop, isn’t he?_ he’d asked on their drive over to South Side, turning their car around a corner. _Gorski. Thought I’d recognized the name._

_Yeah. He was Captain._

_Dang, man. No pressure or anything._

Will laughed it off, and they spent the rest of their drive in silence. He wondered if the shoplifter would put up a fight.

When they got there, the owner of the convenience store brought out a kid wearing an oversized black hoodie with a worn-out logo printed down the front. He looked fourteen — maybe fifteen — and his long hair covered his eyes. 

 _Hands above your head where I can see them,_ said Diego.

Will walked around with the handcuff, locking one end around the boy’s wrist. To both their surprise the kid didn’t resist. Diego shrugged before putting a hand over the kid’s shoulder to escort him back to their car, the other cuff fastened to the back door handle.

It was six in the morning, and the sky broke dawn some ten minutes ago. Their car was the only one on the road, and Diego was humming to himself on their drive back. Arresting an unresisting shoplifter was hardly an eventful start to the day for cops, even the new ones straight out of the academy. 

Will turned to look at the boy. His eyes darted uneasily between his cuffed hand and the window, and his feet shifted underneath. The chain of the handcuff jiggled as he turned to look through the back window. 

 _You expecting someone?_ Will found himself asking.

The kid turned back to stare at him, but didn’t say anything. Then he lowered his head and looked at his lap, his free hand fiddling with a frayed bit of string on his distressed jeans. 

Diego turned to Will and gave him a quizzical look that, in hindsight, translated roughly to, _“the fuck you up to, Gorski?”_

He ignored his partner. _Hey_ , he tried again, _this your first time in the back seat?_

The kid looked up with a frown, still silent, but he turned away before their eyes could meet. He was more nervous than anything. It had to be his first time under arrest.

 _Didn’t know we’re gonna do interrogations right here in the car,_ said Diego, pulling over. _But if you’re gonna play good cop bad cop, Gorski, you could’ve warned me._

 _How old are you, kid?_ Will asked again. Diego turned, too.

 _Fourteen_ , the boy mumbled, still not looking at either of them.

 _Why’d you steal?_ asked Diego.

Another shrug.

 _Alright._ Will got out of the car and opened the back door, unlocking the cuff attached to the handle. From where he stood, he could make out the silhouette of a street lamp on the boy’s black hoodie. The logo of the Night Ministry. _This is a warning. Next time we see you, we’re bringing you in._

 _The fuck you doing, Gorski?!_ Diego got out, too. _Captain said we gotta bring him in._

 _Say he got away._ Will unlocked the other cuff. _Before we could pull up to the store. Say he took off._

The boy didn’t leave or run off like Will expected him to. He stood there, looking between the two officers, confused.

 _You’re tellin’ me to lie to the Captain?_ Diego snorted, grabbing the boy’s arm. _Are you fucking shitting me right now?_

_Come on. It’s his first time._

_I don’t care if it’s his first time! We’re supposed to be arresting him!_

_He’s a kid!_ Will gestured to the boy, who was looking down at his worn-out converse. _What good is it gonna do, sending every kid behind bars?_

_You’re not a God-damned social worker, Gorski!_

Will looked at his partner with a pleading eye. Diego raised his hands in surrender, letting go of the kid. _Fine! But you explain to the Captain. I’m a shit liar._

 _Thank you._ Will turned to the kid. _You’re free to go._

The kid hesitated for a moment before he took off. 

 _And hey -_ Will called, stopping him in his tracks halfway down the street. _No more shoplifting. This is a one-time thing._

The Captain, to their relief, believed in the story, chastised them for being outrun by a kid, and sent them on their way to the next assignment.

 _Your old man would’ve killed you if he heard,_ said Diego, still driving. Will had offered to drive, but he’d told him he preferred to be behind the wheel. And after the small favor he’d asked this morning, Will decided to let it go.

 _He probably would._ He took a sip of his leftover coffee and made a face. It had cooled down to a frigid autumn-morning temperature. _I was hoping this could stay between us._

 _We’re not in kindergarten, Will. I’m not gonna tell on you,_ Diego reassured. _But why’d you do it?_

Will frowned. Why _did_ he do it? He remembered the stories he’d been told, stories about his mother, who thought the world of him, who passed away before he had enough memories to miss her. But he’d wanted to be like her — a person who believed in second chances.

 _I’m not my dad,_ Will said finally.

Diego nodded. _No shit, Gorski. You’re fucking weird._

_So I’ve been told._

_Out of everyone from the academy, I get stuck with Officer Pushover._ Diego laughed. _Just my luck._

_You could switch partners._

_Nah._ Diego waved him off. _I like playin’ the bad cop._

“You are certainly unusual for a police officer,” Sun repeated what she’d said earlier. “So is Detective Mun.”

“You’re attracted to weird cops. What does that say about you?” he teased.

Sun crossed her arms. “I am not attracted to anyone.”

“Whatever you say.” He recalled the memory of her kissing him in the middle of their rematch at the graveyard. 

“That was a distraction tactic.”

And it was an effective one. It didn’t take a cop to figure out Mun had been taken aback by the kiss. Maybe even more so than she’d intended.

“So what are you going to do?”

Sun frowned. “About what?”

“You know.”

“Mun is not going to leave without me. So I will have to go back to Korea and give my testimony in front of the court.”

“Is that all?” Will could tell she was holding back, if the muffled voices in the back of her mind was any indication.

“After the debriefing last night, he is adamant on helping out in the final battle,” she added reluctantly. “He believes his professional knowledge would be of assistance.”

Hardly a surprise, knowing the Detective. “So what’s the verdict?”

“I was hoping you could talk him out of it.”

He looked around the makeshift speakeasy. “You want me to call him? Or, umm -” he gestured between himself and Sun - “talk to him through you?”

“Whatever suits you. But I do not want him to end up in a hospital.” _Again_.

“I’m sure he learned from his mistakes.”

She scoffed. “Detective Mun? Learning from his mistakes?”

In their minds, she shared the story the Detective had told her during their last phone call, the story of the prisoner he’d failed to save. Mun wasn’t going to let Sun end up the same — that much, Will could say for certain. It was astounding how, out of all the cops in the world, Sun ended up confronting the one cop who operated with the same calculated recklessness that had gotten Will into countless trouble in his career.

“Okay, so he might be a little on the reckless side -”

“He nearly got himself killed. Twice.”

“Point taken,” Will surrendered. “But he survived. And this time he won’t be alone.”

“You want me to be his bodyguard?”

Will shrugged. Sun wouldn’t make a bad bodyguard, sure, but it wasn’t like Mun couldn’t hold his own. 

“Why is he like this?” she asked.

“It’s a cop thing.”

“Which part?”

“We don’t like admitting there’s nothing we can do,” he confessed.

She nodded, a silent understanding, though he could tell she was still bothered by Mun’s new involvement in their battle. “Are you always this persistent?”

He knew she wasn’t asking for his sake. She could see his memories and judge for herself. But she was relying on his knowledge to understand someone, and that was a whole new domain. He supposed honesty would be helpful. “Only when I have backup.”

“Like Diego?”

“Or you.”

She sighed in defeat. “There is no way I can talk him out of it.” _Is there?_

“No.”

“I suppose I will have to keep a close eye on him.”

Sun was trying to sound annoyed, but she was no Lito. Blocker or not, Will knew she cared for the Detective. But he didn’t want to call her out on her feelings, in case her fight-or-flight kicked in and she never ever opened up to him again. Fuck. Will wasn’t good at this whole relationship advice thing, especially when he was trying to convince _Sun_. 

So, with a nod, he helped her up, and watched her disappear to take her Blocker before he threw open the closet door and shuffled out, scratching the back of his head.

“How did it go?” asked Riley, handing him his dose.

Will groaned, swallowed the capsule with a cringe, and chugged the water. “Where’s Nomi when you need her?”

*

Genevieve joined Will on his night shift after Riley had given up fighting sleep, and let Will carry her to bed. After Will had settled back down in front of the TV, which was playing some kind of black and white movie on mute, Genevieve came up to him in her fleece pajamas with one arm behind her back and a smirk on her face — the kind that made Will tilt his head, confused. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

“When did you find the time?”

“’S not a regular old present,” she explained. She extracted her arm and handed him an A4-sized manila envelope. 

He accepted it, and frowned when he found it heavier than he’d anticipated.

She lit the scented candle sitting on the coffee stand. “Well? Open it.”

Will thought the envelope was filled with paper, which was partially right. A quick peek at the contents told him it was over a dozen glossy photos, which he pulled out carefully, examining each one.

The first photo was from the day he and Riley stared at the wall of their room in awe, back in the Paris safe house. The bottom half of the wall was filled with blue waves, accentuated by white and gold lines, bright against the deep navy background. Miki told them she and Leon were inspired by the _Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major_. When Riley pointed out it was her father’s favorite piece, Genevieve had joked it was destiny.

“When did you -”

“When you’re distracted, of course.” Genevieve sounded smug as she crossed her legs on the leather couch next to Will. “I printed ‘em before I left our house.”

Will continued sifting through the photos. Most of them featured him and Riley. Sometimes some of the others were featured in the shot: Hernando and Lito exchanging a flirtatious glance as they passed the pot of coffee to a sleep-deprived Will at breakfast; Amanita surprise-kissing Nomi from behind as she typed away on her laptop in the living room… 

No one was ever looking directly at the camera. Will felt like he was spying in on his own memories from a third eye. Was this how others saw him and Riley?

“ _Wow_ ,” was all he managed to say.

“I’ve seen loads of clusters. But you lot? You’re somethin’ else.”

He chuckled, sifting through more photos until —

“How did you -”

“I didn’t take that one,” Genevieve explained. “But Lito came up to me ‘n asked to borrow it, that night ya proposed. He must’ve taken it himself.”

The photo in question was a clear shot of Will and Riley on the night he proposed in the kitchen. They were clinking their glasses of champagne, eyes locked, her rose gold ring glinting under the kitchen light, accentuated by the glint on the glass.

“I think Hernando had the camera,” Will recalled. “Lito was a little busy with, umm -”

“Lemme guess, prancin’ ‘round the place sayin’ _‘I told ya! I told ya he was gonna propose!’_?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ve given the others their pictures, before I left Paris. I even managed a few shots of Kala and Wolfgang. Shocking, I know!”

How she managed to get a shot of them on the rare occasions these two were out of their room or the basement lab, Will couldn’t begin to guess. But he supposed stealth came with being a good photographer. He wondered what Wolfgang said when he’d found out someone had been taking pictures of him stroking Kala’s hair with a smitten sort of smile.

“Wolfgang didn’t say much of anythin’. He was just frozen -” Genevieve morphed her face into a classic deer-in-headlights expression - “like this. But Kala thanked me.”

Will could bet his Chicago PD badge Wolfgang had wanted to crawl into a hole. Or punch a table. Kala, on the other hand, was probably happy to have these photos, if only for teasing purposes. “Thank you,” he said, stashing them back into the envelope. 

He stopped at the last one, which was peeking out halfway. Maybe he’d missed it the first time. He pulled it out to examine it: a photo of Amélie curled up in front of Riley’s chest, fast asleep. Riley had wrapped her arms protectively around the child. The way her eyes softened at the sight of the girl brought a warm feeling to Will’s chest.

Genevieve smiled. “I thought it best to give ‘em to ya privately. They seem personal.”

Will nodded in quiet appreciation. He and Riley had endured enough teasing from their cluster and extended family since the proposal. And Riley would probably want to hang these photos someday, right above their bed. She had a lot of frames around her house, most of which looked handmade. Will pictured her doing the same in their new apartment in — well, they hadn’t discussed _where_.

“Feels odd, doesn’t it?” Genevieve said again, filling the silence.

Will sealed the string around the buckle on the envelope for safekeeping. “Hmm?”

“How close we are to bein’ free.”

“Huh.” He frowned. “Yeah. I guess.” 

He hadn’t really thought about it like this until she’d brought it up. Maybe after spending over a year on the run, he’d come to think of this as his new normal. But with Nomi’s new developments on the hacking front, now that Bug and more Veracity hackers were helping to uncover the incriminating evidence that could send hundreds of _sapiens_ into prison, they were getting close. They were only days away from bringing down the Headhunters under Veronika’s command once and for all, and let the world bring down the rest. 

It was almost time to go home.

“Feels like we hit this pause button when the five of us moved to Paris,” she continued. “Like we’d be here for ages without doin’ much of anythin’ ’s far as the rest of the world’s concerned, ya know?”

“Henrik told me you all dropped out of school,” he remembered.

“Well, Miki was doin’ her apprenticeship with the healer, and Leon was bloody done with education after Sixth Form, I think. But the rest of us, yeah. ’S far as the record went, we’re registered as dead. Gonna be a rightful mess to explain all that when we resurface.”

“Dead?!”

She laughed. “Didn’t want the Headhunters’ trackin’ us down after they almost got Gina. So we got help from Veracity to cover up our tracks. That house? It was registered under James’ name. Leon’s best mate back in London,” she reminded him, seeing his confusion.

“So…”

“So we have to get our records cleared up first. Maybe Leon’ll stay in that bloody huge house by himself and paint his heart out, and Miki could fly back ’n forth if she’s not too busy patchin’ up everyone in her village, I know she loved bein’ Leon’s assistance. I’ll finish my photography degree, I think.”

Will nodded. It did seem so odd to go back to a normal life after what they’d seen.

And what would _he_ do? Chicago sounded like a lifetime ago. Andy had told him Veracity could find a way to clear up his name, maybe come up with some kind of story, supported by fake documentation — that he was put on a classified assignment to go undercover and investigate BPO’s corruption, maybe. Right now, though, Will didn’t feel like much of a cop.

“I think the world could use more sensate cops,” said Genevieve. How she managed to guess his thoughts when he was Blocked, Will didn’t have enough energy to wonder. “’Specially those who could bend the rules a tad now ’n then.”

With the number of unauthorized items he was carrying and the far from lawful things he planned to do to the Headhunters and Veronika, this was way beyond _bending_ the rules. Though, seeing as he’d lied to his Captain on his first assignment in the force, this was hardly news. “I’m not going to stay a vigilante if I go back to being a cop.”

“But ya can make sure history doesn’t repeat itself,” she pointed out. “Put a stop to crimes against sensates if you see ‘em, before they get worse.”

That reminded Will of what Nomi once told him, when he asked what she wanted to do with the scientific evidence, the brain scans and genetic logs, she’d pulled from BPO’s more acceptable database. “You think there’ll be others like Veronika?”

She shrugged. “There’s no way we could track ‘em all down. Should take a few years before any of ‘em could dare to start anythin’ after we destroy the system, but who knows?”

It would take a lifetime, probably more, for most of the world to come to their senses about the existence of _Homo sensorium_ without launching everyone into a full-on interspecies war. So far as Mavis and the other Veracity agents knew, the Guys were working on revealing a half-truth about BPO’s unethical experiments and their “biological warfare tactics”, so they could turn the general public against the organization instead of the raging, brain-damaged, out-of-control attackers causing terror in cities all over.

“Who knows,” Will echoed.

Genevieve patted him on the shoulder before reaching over to turn on the lamp by the couch. She blew out the candle. By now, the cinnamon and vanilla scent had permeated throughout the living room. “Knock ‘em dead, Officer Gorski. I know ya can.”

“Thanks.”

She tapped the side of her head. “This time we’ll give ‘em a rightful scare. But we won’t be on Blockers anymore after this summer. We’ll be more powerful if they try to take us again.”

“Next time they won’t be so lucky,” he finished for her.

Their entire plan boiled down to making an example of the _sapiens_ who declared war on their species. Just like what Whispers wanted to do to Will’s cluster. Really, their tactic wasn’t so different from the Headhunters’. 

Except for one thing: BPO was fighting to kill. And they were fighting to save.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** The song’s called _Porque Yo Te Amo_ , by Sandro de América, an Argentinian artist. Apparently it was a number one hit in Mexico in 1971 so I feel like Belinda would’ve been familiar with it. And the lyrics translate to the following, according to [this](http://lyricstranslate.com/en/porque-yo-te-amo-because-i-love-you.html-0#ixzz52BCw7Uka) website:
> 
> “ _What is to become_
> 
>  
> 
> _Of this singular drama_
> 
>  
> 
> _That exists between us,_
> 
>  
> 
> _Trying to feign_
> 
>  
> 
> _A mere friendship?_
> 
>  
> 
> _While in reality_
> 
>  
> 
> _Passions are stirring_
> 
>  
> 
> _Which bite at the heart_
> 
>  
> 
> _And make me refrain [from saying]_
> 
>  
> 
>  _I love you, I love you._ ”
> 
> (Dani only sang him the first half of this stanza. Heh. Imagine Felix’s face when he finds out what it means! Foreshadowing much? *Runs away before I can answer.*)


	30. All of my demons have withered away (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are talks about family and potential romantic partners, and someone’s agenda gets a lot more sinister.
> 
> “All of your demons will wither away  
> Ecstasy comes and they cannot stay  
> You'll understand when you come my way  
> Coz all of my demons have withered away”  
> — From S1E9, “Demons” by Fatboy Slim (feat. Macy Gray) (S1E6)

 

**August 4, 2017**

“I don’t know if I can pull off blue,” said Dani, eyeing the bottle of hair dye.

Amanita plopped down on the stool behind the other woman, both of them facing the bathroom mirror. “That’s because you haven’t tried it, honey. Blue’s totally your color.”

“Just the tip?”

She raised Dani’s ponytail up high and showed her the bleached tip through the mirror. “About three inches. Is that fine?”

“Yeah, alright,” Dani conceded.

The dying process wasn’t that difficult with the ready-made dye mix they’d found, and Amanita wrapped the end of Dani’s hair in tinfoil in small sections. The paste was sticky enough, but she secured the foil with a few hairpins in case something slipped. She’d done this loads of times with her friends back in San Francisco, an amused Noms watching beside her as she rummaged through her collection of twenty or so colors for the right shade. 

Electric blue dye wasn’t hard to find in Manchester, and now with Miki in on the whole “team color” theme along with Riley and Mavis and Amanita herself, she’d talked Dani into it at breakfast. She could try to persuade Noms next. 

And Sun? Well, _maybe_ once the Mun situation had been taken care of.

“Wouldn’t this be a dead giveaway?” Dani asked. “When we’re invading BPO? They’d know we were together.”

Amanita hummed, conceding. “Maybe they should. They’ll be scared off their ass.”

“They are pretty intimidating. Especially Sun.”

“Honey, _you’re_ intimidating. Hernando told me you’re badass with a gun.”

Dani quirked an eyebrow and turned slowly to face the other woman, careful not to let the tinfoil slip. “Did he now?”

Well… Not just badass. Amanita had asked him how the fight went after he and the others came back from Shanghai. She could tell Hernando was trying to give her an accurate account, but he rambled on about how Dani saved his life with a perfect shot. She still remembered him nudging up his glasses like he was trying to get a closer look at Amanita’s reaction. It was beyond cute — not something some could forget in a hurry. 

“He said all your shots were bullseye.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Dani confessed, turning back to the mirror. “You know, I was afraid I’d be useless without that sensate connection they all had.”

“Lito would be dead without you, Dani.” Amanita hugged her from behind. Bit of an exaggeration, but Noms had told her something along the same lines one night when they were in Paris, chuckling about the way she’d saved Lito from early retirement with a phone call to Kit Wrangler.

“I guess they do need more shooters.”

Amanita wished she was good with a gun. The first time she tried to wield one was when they were trading in Whispers for Wolfgang, and it worked out fine, for the most part. She didn’t know if she’d shot someone dead, but she didn’t miss her target and end up firing at one of her friends, and that was more than she could’ve hoped for.

“You gotta teach me,” said Amanita.

“What, _here_?”

“Okay, maybe not with an actual gun. But can you show me how it’s done? Like, how do you undo the safety lock thing? Will switched it off for me last time.”

With no gun at hand — they couldn’t exactly risk bringing weapons on international train rides — they settled for watching one episode of _The Mirror Has No Heart_ , the telenovela she and Lito starred in, where there was a close-up shot of Lito-the-evil-twin prepping the gun to shoot his good twin. 

Amanita peeked over Dani’s shoulder to get a better look at the tablet on her lap. The dye was gonna take a while to set in, so they started from the beginning of the episode. It was kinda weird to get to know Dani personally before seeing her on screen as a next-door-neighbor type love interest, especially when she ended up with Lito's character.

“Lito and I watch our old shows sometimes.” Dani must’ve guessed what she was thinking. “It’s _so_ weird, now that we’re, well, you know.”

“I bet. What does Hernando think of this?”

“Oh, he finds it hilarious. He used to run lines with Lito, so it’s weird for all three of us.”

Amanita couldn’t understand the Spanish dialogue, but with the dramatic music in the background, she imagined herself power-walking through a fiery explosion, a gun in each hand like how Lito looked in almost all his movies.

The only difference was, once she learned how to properly use guns, her shots were gonna be a lot more fatal.

“It’s one of my best shows,” Dani told her as they got close to the shooting scene. “But I was so mad in this scene. The director we worked with didn’t give me a shot with the prop guns. I was the damsel in distress. It’s always the guys doing the shooting.”

“Of course it is.” Amanita rolled her eyes. Another ridiculous way of the world that needed a wake-up call.

“But here, that’s how you can switch off the safety.” Dani paused the video on the tablet. “They modeled this after a Glock 17. Probably the one we’ll get to use.”

“Cool.” Amanita mimicked Lito’s motion with her hands, pretending there was a gun. 

Dani nodded, adjusting the placement of her hands a little. “Yeah, you got it.”

On the other side of the closed bathroom door, they heard Felix passing by, belting out a German song on his way down the stairs, stomping on the steps with his fancy silver shoes. It was some kind of anthem for a soccer team he liked, Amanita supposed. From what she knew, it wasn’t _all_ off-key.

They exchanged an amused look before bursting into giggles.

“You better not be making fun of me!” Felix’s voice echoed through the hallway.

“Oh, we totally are!” Dani shouted back.

The next thing they knew, Felix’s silhouette was blocking the bit of light coming through the little frosted glass window on the bathroom door.

“What do you want?” asked Dani, pretending to be annoyed.

“I wanna see what you look like with blue hair.”

Amanita looked at her watch before removing the hair pins. “Yup, time’s up.”

They made quick work rinsing out the excess dye in the tub. Dani laid her head on Amanita’s lap so she didn’t get all soaked. Lucky her hair was pretty long, and the shower head was removable, so they didn’t make a mess. Another three minutes later Amanita was undoing her now dried ponytail, brushing her black-and-blue locks with careful fingers.

“Perfect,” said Amanita, turning Dani by the shoulder to look in the mirror. “Beautiful.”

“I like it.” Dani smiled. “Thank you.”

From the way Felix stepped back and examined Dani with wide eyes the moment they opened the door, Amanita could tell he thought the same. Hell, if the lighting in the hallway wasn’t so shitty, she’d bet he was blushing. 

“So?” Dani prompted.

“It’s -” his voice was higher than usual - “it’s great. Great.”

Felix cleared his throat and mumbled out some incoherent excuse before making his way downstairs two steps at a time, swearing when he ran into something. It was astounding how after spending more than a month together, Felix was still so freaking clumsy around Dani. His incurable crush was gonna be the death of him someday.

“You gonna go after him?” Amanita prompted.

“Why?” Dani looked genuinely puzzled. 

Or maybe she was acting again. She was pretty good at this, so Amanita couldn’t tell which. She quirked an eyebrow.

“ _What_?”

“Ask him out,” Amanita whispered.

“I wasn’t planning to -” Dani lowered her voice - “wait, you thought we -”

“You’re in denial,” she sing-songed.

“I’m not in denial, I’m just - did he say something?”

And there it was. “Please, honey, everyone in the world knows he has a massive incurable crush on you.”Amanita crossed her arms with an equally sly grin. “Why, do you want him to have said something?”

“Well, did he?”

“Not to me.” Amanita started down the stairs. “But a little bird told me you think he’s cute.”

Dani froze. Amanita hid her victorious smile as she walked down. That was a lie, and she thanked her lucky stars she wasn’t too shabby of an actress, so it would seem. It wasn’t like she went around asking Lito and Hernando for gossip, thought if she did, she was pretty sure they’d tell her Dani talked about Felix constantly. 

Eventually Dani followed her down without saying anything else. She looked like she was lost in thought, and when it came to these things, Amanita knew better than to disturb her.

Someday, Dani would thank her for this.

*

Five lobotomized soldiers stood, the only ones upright in a room full of bodies.

A white blanket was drawn over the other soldiers lying on their stretchers, waiting to be commanded for a battle. It was a relief the employees had bothered to keep the place tidy. Those who worked here may have been familiar with the nature of this storage room, but Veronika would wager none of them wanted to look at human puppets.

She could see Karl operating the EEG system from the corner of her eyes, standing calmly still by the corner, the cap fixed on his head. 

He blinked once when he commanded the soldiers to raise their right fists. The soldiers never blinked, but the muscles on their faces twitched like they were still conscious. As many times as Veronika visited Lower Level 4, the sight of the soldiers still made her recoil. Her toes curled inside her pointy heels, and her nails dug into the skin on her palms.

She hoped her long trench coat covered the fact that she was shivering.

“Five at once?” she asked Karl through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Impressive.”

The corner of his mouth ticked, twisting the jagged scar down his face. “There’s been an upgrade in the system.”

When he talked, his attention drawn away from the subjects of is command, the soldiers stood deadly still. The synchronicity between the soldiers was unnerving. Like they were still part of the same cluster after that part of their minds have been removed. 

“All at the same time?”

“This is the furthest they’ve come,” said Karl. 

She sighed, pretending to be displeased rather than unsettled. “Remind me to ask the technicians to work on multiple commandments. I won’t have my soldiers marching out there like a pack of robots.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But it will do for now.” 

Veronika walked closer to the soldier right in front of her, pretending to examine the sensate woman. She’d rather not be in the same room with sensates at all, alive or — well, not dead, but close — if she could help it. But the Headhunter was in the room, and she would not have him thinking she was afraid.

Blue eyes met brown. The soldier stared at Veronika, unblinking. A long-ranger fixing on its target, waiting to make a calculated strike. Karl was still wearing the EEG cap. If he wished, the sensate could have strangled Veronika on the spot. 

If it was Milton under that cap, Veronika knew he would have taken the chance. But Karl was different. He had no love for sensates. His violence and bitterness was towards his own kind, not hers. 

All the more reason to put him in charge of commands.

“They’re part of the same cluster, all five of them,” Karl explained. “It’s the only way we can command more than one at a time.”

With a nod, Veronika glanced at the rest of the cluster and wondered what they were like before the operation. Had they stood by each other’s side, combining their strengths mercilessly against a lone target? She wondered if they had ever hurt anyone for fun, or if they were like the August 8 cluster — self-proclaimed heroes, slaying for the supposed common good. Saving one species of humans at the expense of the other.

Whatever was the case, she was happy they could no longer hurt her.

“A good use for a cluster,” she remarked, turning to Karl. “Have we got more?”

“Five whole clusters in this facility. The rest are incomplete, but there are Headhunters volunteering to command the individuals.”

“Good.” 

Veronika looked at the machine again, and withheld a sigh of relief when Karl commanded the Bolgers to climb up their stretchers and lie back down before removing his EEG cap.

“Should we deploy the individuals for the next operation?” he asked.

“Yes. The synchronized soldiers would not be effective for combat.”

Karl cleared his throat. “Ma’am, if I may -”

“What is it?”

“What is the purpose of the clustered soldiers?”

“They’re not for terrorizing the public, Karl,” she informed him. “They’ll be staying at this facility during the next attack.”

“Why?”

“I believe we’ll be expecting visitors then.”

*

Yrsa arrived at the Oslo safe house after dinner. She stood a distance from her children, watching them with wary eyes. Riley could tell she was putting up a tough front. 

“You foolish girls,” she muttered, glancing at Kiira briefly before giving Mavis the bulk of her exasperation.

Mavis ran over to her, initiating the group hug. “Nice to see you too, Mother.”

“Plus we’re alive,” Kiira pointed out, joining in. “That ought to count for something.”

“I’m happy you didn’t march off to your deaths, although from what I’ve heard, you’d come close.” Yrsa sighed. “But it doesn’t mean I approve of all this - this _vigilantism_.”

“Vigilantism!” Mavis beamed. She turned back and gave Riley a wink. “Hear that? She called it vigilantism. From Yrsa, that’s like a grand seal of approval.”

Riley beamed back, happy Yrsa was reunited with her children. 

“Are you going to stay?” asked Kiira.

“There are no other vacancies in Europe, or so I heard. I suppose I’ll have to.”

“Come on,” said Mavis, “don’t act like you’re not happy to see us.”

“I would be a lot happier if you’re both staying put until BPO is dealt with.”

Kiira mirrored her cluster-mate’s smug expression. “I don’t think they’ll manage the invasion without our expert knowledge, Mother.”

Riley walked away from the living room to give them some space. This was clearly a long overdue family moment, and she didn’t want to intrude. Slowly, she made her way upstairs. She didn’t realize her father was standing at the top, watching her with a tender smile as he leaned against the wall.

“You’ve changed, Riles.”

She quirked a teasing eyebrow, climbing up the rest of the steps. “Have I?”

“Well, in a way you’ve come full circle.”

Her father was many things, but straightforward wasn’t one of them. “I didn’t know you were so philosophical.”

“You’ve grown comfortable with company, is what I mean.”

They made their ways towards the room he occupied alone, and Riley closed the door behind them. The room was only large enough for a bed and a desk, and his open suitcase hogged the free space on the ground. But it had a big window overlooking a small lake, and the lamp on the desk emanated a soft yellow glow that reminded her of home. She imagined him playing his ukulele, watching the sunrise every morning.

She sat down on the bed beside him. “I couldn’t have done it without Will.”

“I owe a lot of your happiness to Will,” he admitted. “But he can’t take all the credit. Or the rest of your cluster.”

Everyone in the cluster had changed, both because of and in spite of themselves. They had added their strengths to the cluster and drawn strength from it to make changes to themselves. If Kiira was here, she’d have said the situation was paradoxical. 

Perhaps the younger woman was rubbing off on her. She told her father that much.

He chuckled. “I don’t know about paradoxes. But I know you’ve come far, like I never doubted you could.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a fighter.”

She scooted up, leaning against the wall, and hugged a pillow close to her chest. “I wouldn’t say I’m a fighter. Sun’s the champion fighter.”

“You’re all fighters,” he insisted. “All this work you’re doing? That young woman, Mavis, she says you were the only ones who stood up to the Hunters.”

“ _Head_ hunters,” she corrected. She made a mental note to ask Mavis what else she’d told her father. “We didn’t want to hide anymore.”

He smiled, a wistful smile. “Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“You always liked your freedom.”

“Only when it’s safe for all of us.” She remembered the night they’d spent at Paradiso, the first show she’d played since she’d fled from Iceland. The show, dangerous as it was, led her and her cluster to Mr Hoy, which, in Kala’s words, “sparked the chain of reaction” that landed them in the middle of this war. “They make me feel brave.”

Her father sat back against the wall too, absentmindedly fiddling with his ukulele. “You’ve always been brave.”

“I don’t know -”

The fiddling turned into a melody. The opening notes of _Sofðu unga ástin mín_ , her mother’s favorite song. “Remember when you found the wren in the park?”

She couldn’t believe papa still remembered.

Riley and her mother had stumbled upon it one day at Lake Tjörnin. It was summertime, and her mother liked to take a stroll every morning to find a new scenery to paint. Sometimes Riley joined her on the excursions with her own canvas and easel.

But Riley’s version of the lake looked more like a blue blob with wave patterns etched onto the surface, and she never quite got the hang of how she could paint the shadow her favorite rowan tree casted on the ground — hers looked like someone had dug a black hole in the middle of the earth.

 _Why can’t I paint like you?_ she muttered one day, frustrated.

Her mother stopped in the middle of her painting, put down her palette and brush, and walked over to examine Riley’s canvas. _Because no one sees the world the same way, Riley._

 _But mama, I see it,_ she insisted, looking at the tree. _I just can’t paint what I see._

_Sometimes our brain plays tricks on us._

Riley gruntled, frustrated, as she looked at her mother’s perfect piece. _Your brain doesn’t play tricks on you._

 _I didn’t always paint the same way._ She crouched lower so she and her daughter could see eye to eye. _When I was younger, I painted like you. And then I painted like Van Gogh, because I wanted to see how he saw things. You remember? With the little lines and dots?_

 _Yeah_. 

Riley had an Eiffel Tower painting hanging in her bedroom, the one her mother had completed during their trip to Paris on her 6th birthday.

 _But now this lake and this tree is different for me._ She gestured to her painting, showing Riley her version of the scene: large, mishmashed chunks of colors in the background, topped by thin lines of black paint delineating where the trees and the lake and the sky was.

_Why is it different now?_

_Maybe for you, when you look at the shadow, it’s the color that stands out to you. Black against the grass. Black against green._

_What about you?_

Her mother closed one eye and traced the black lines with her finger in the air. _When I see the shawod, I see the shape of a tree lying sideways on the earth. It’s a lazy tree._

Riley laughed. _Maybe it’s taking a nap._

Her mother laughed, too. _Maybe!_

That was when Riley heard the bird call. It was faint against the sound of their laughter, but her ears perked up at the slightest hint of a tweet. She turned and ducked low against the ground, frowning as she walked closer to the source.

There was an injured wren lying on its back against the lawn close to the walkway. It had a broken wing with a large, angry red gash down the fold. Its other wing flapped desperately against the lawn, fanning the blades of grass.

The bird called again, quieter this time. It sounded like it was crying.

“It was hurt. What else could I have done?”

“You used to be afraid of birds,” he pointed out. “You told me you were afraid they’d flap their wings in front of you and scratch you with their claws.”

The silliness of her imagination as a child made Riley chuckle.

“You wouldn’t go near one if it was hopping around on the sidewalk looking for food. For years, your mama and I had to chase birds off our paths. But that day you saw the wren in the park, and you held it in your hands and took it home.”

“It was calling for help.” 

Riley smiled and remembered the way mama encouraged her to pick up the bird and try not to disturb the broken wing. The moment her finger grazed the feather, the little wren twitched and paddled its little legs in the air. 

She drew back her hand with a shiver and looked at her mother, who raised her paint-coated hands in surrender — sometimes she’d substitute the paint brush with her fingers, often times without notice. And the bird called out again, barely audible this time. So Riley took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and scooped it up from underneath its uninjured wing with the clean cloth mama was going to use to clean her brushes.

On their way home, the wren had bled and left red stains on the white fabric that Riley couldn’t wash away. 

 _Maybe that’s how your brain plays tricks on you, Riley,_ her mother said as she taught Riley to bandage the bird. _Maybe you don’t see the world in lines and shapes and colors. You listen._

 _Told you she takes after me,_ her papa joked, waltzing into the living room.

A week later, when the bird had healed in their home and started singing, Riley opened the window and set it free.

“That took a lot of courage.” Her father’s fingers struck the last chord of the song on the ukulele with a dramatic flair, grinning his characteristic, upbeat grin. “You’re not only a fighter, Riles. You’re a protector.”

She smiled, a sad smile. “Sometimes I don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t think anyone can take Will from you.”

“You can’t promise that,” her voice broke.

“Maybe not.” He moved closer and put an arm around her shoulder, stroking her hair with his calloused fingers. “But I know you’ll never let him go without a fight.”

_Never._

Like he could hear the voice inside her head, he nodded. “And that’s why your enemies should be very afraid of you.”

Maybe he had a point, even thought right now, Riley found it hard to believe. Maybe, after they’d come so far and escaped what the sensate world once thought was the impossible, BPO had begun to fear her cluster as much as they feared them. As they should have been. 

Because Riley would never give up the fight for their freedom. None of them would.

*

_“Dr Kolovi of University of Chicago is urging citizens to sign up for free genetic testing, available at all major hospitals affiliated with the Biological Preservation Organization…”_

Kiira sighed and closed her eyes, hoping to get the image of the news reporter out of her mind. It was no fault of the reporter’s, of course; the woman was doing her job, and in all likelihood, she was unaware of the truth behind the seemingly benign organization.

_“Police are still searching for Professor Langford at University College London, who was last seen at the south bank of the River Thames last Thursday. Langford teaches neuroscience, and has made great contributions to the scientific community with his study of the frontal lobe…”_

“Hang on, isn’t that the bloke who called Kolovi a fraud last week?” Leon’s voice brought Kiira back to the present. 

Kiira nodded. They’d seen the report back at the Paris safe house, all twenty or so of them gathered in the living room, and besides celebrating the fact that at least one academic was unswayed by BPO propaganda, they had all but forgotten about Dr Langford as they busied themselves with finding new shelters.

Topher swore nearby, at the table where he sat with his computer. He’d move into the Oslo safe house not long after he’d met with Kiira and Mavis back at the Paris farmer’s market. He’d made one last Blocker trade before some of his hacker friends decided he was a target too, since he was still in close proximity when the Reciphorum was activated later that day. So he’d been hiding out here, helping out with hacking. “You don’t think -”

“It _has_ to be BPO,” said Damien, hopping down the stairs two steps at a time in his pajamas, oversized slippers thumping against the wooden ground. “It’s always BPO.”

Kiira frowned. “Damien, what are you doing out of bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He ran down the rest of the steps and plopped down between Kiira and Leon on the couch. “What’s on the news? Missing people?”

Thankfully, the reporter had moved on from BPO-inflicted problems, and was now reporting new developments in artificial intelligence.

“Have they found anyone?” Damien insisted, prodding Leon’s arm.

Leon shook his head. “Sorry, mate.”

“Have they checked in the freezers?”

Freezers? Count on Leon to educate the boy using blockbuster detective films. “I’m sure when the police get inside, they will,” Kiira tried to reassure the boy.

“You can check!” Damien’s eyes brightened. “When you break in!”

Kiira and Leon exchanged a baffled looked. They were pretty sure Damien was asleep during all these discussions. Gina usually made sure the kids were tucked in before they talked weapons and invasions.

Topher quirked an eyebrow. “You told him the battle plan?”

“They thought I was asleep.” Damien stuck out his tongue.

“’Least you’re more upfront now, about bein’ awake.” Leon hauled the boy up by the arm. “Off you go. It’s past your bedtime.”

“You’re starting to sound like Gina,” Damien whined, trudging up the stairs anyway.

“Alright, fair, but _please_ don’t tell her that,” Leon pleaded as they reached the second floor. “She’s smug enough as she is.”

“Maybe I will!”

The exchange reminded Kiira of when she was younger, the way she’d protest every time her mom and dad tried to convince her to go to bed. She was one of those children who’d hide their yawns and insist they couldn’t fall asleep. Liam, of course, saw right through her, and sometimes he threatened to expose her. Not that he ever did.

“They get along pretty well, huh,” said Topher, careful to keep his voice low. 

He typed in a few more lines of coding before he leaned back in his chair. Kiira couldn’t see the screen, but she knew Topher had been helping Andy and Nomi and the other hackers uncover as many _sapiens_ as they could.

Mavis had told her about Topher’s after they’d come home from the market that day, shaken to the core thanks to the Reciphorum attack. Topher’s parents, like Damien’s, were part of the same cluster. When he was fourteen they’d sent him away to live with a cousin in New York, a month before they’d gone missing. The cousin was part of the team of hacktivists who founded Veracity, and he’d taught Topher everything he knew.

“Damien’s been with them for quite some time,” Kiira explained. “More than two years.”

Topher was silent. Leon had told him about Damien’s mother the first night he arrived, in case he accidentally asked about his parents. Right now, Kiira knew Topher was wondering if the boy would ever find out what happened to his mother. The uncertainty would resurface in moments of quiet reflection, and Kiira, too, used to wonder about the family she could have had.

Liam would always be her brother, and her parents would always be her parents; but it was good to have answers.

“I hope he finds her,” said Topher. 

He closed his laptop and joined Kiira on the couch, both of them staring mindlessly at the detergent commercial on TV with the volume on mute. They were both Blocked, but she could guess what Topher wanted to add: _I hope he finds out what happened._

“Me, too.” She looked down at her hands. “His parents are like yours, did you know?”

“Cluster-mates? That’s rough. Seeing them makes it harder to believe they’re gone.”

“You can still see them?” she asked. It fascinated her, how sensorium children born from two cluster-mates differed from other gene carriers.

“Yeah. And they could visit me even before I was reborn. Kind of like I was part of an exclusive package deal, ‘cause I couldn’t see the rest of their cluster.”

That description seemed surprisingly fitting.

“I still can see them sometimes. Last year they wished me a happy birthday,” he continued. “But I know they’re gone. It’s been years.”

“I’m sorry. It must be difficult.”

“At first I was like Damien. I wanted to believe they were hiding, but part of me imagined the worst. And they’d visit me now and then, and it was almost nice, like we were reunited, you know? But it was never the same.”

“Visiting’s not the same,” she agreed.

The first night Kiira arrived in Oslo, she and Capheus had arranged to spend time together when their Blockers wore off. They’d spent half an hour talking in a walk-in closet, updating each other on new developments: he’d told her Kala had found the last ingredient in the compound formula for the anti-Blocker; she’d given him five new names of _sapien_ collaborators. And then they talked about Lionheart.

After meeting Capheus in person, visiting felt like talking to a hologram.

“I’m sorry you had to part with your brother,” he said, deducing her thoughts.

“We’ll meet again in London. But it’s hard to get used to.”

“Yeah, you did share a house together. I felt the same when I got sent to Europe.”

“Your cousin’s still in New York?”

Topher smirked. “Chicago now, actually.”

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

“Let’s just say Veracity’s making the clan bring down the other facilities.”

Kiira laughed. “The clan? Is that what you call yourselves?”

“We’re a family clan, see. All of us hackers-founders who started this thing ten years back.” Topher turned off the TV. “There’s me, my cousin, all his friends from who knows where who somehow got wrapped up in this whole _sensorium_ business…” 

“Were you and your cousin always close?”

“Nah. Never met the guy — I lived in Algiers all my life before New York. Meeting him was wild. But we’re close now.”

She nodded. With Capheus, she wouldn’t say they had exactly become the best of friends over the course of two weeks, but their shared predicament had brought them closer. Close enough to confide in each other. Close enough to feel like visiting wasn’t enough. It was a good start, considering they were brought up in different worlds.

“Chris is a lot older, but it’s not like he became my new dad or anything,” said Topher. “My parents will always be my parents. But he’s family.”

 _Family_. That word had meant something different to Kiira since she was old enough to tell she didn’t relate to her parents and brother the same way other kids did, if the occasional odd stares from strangers and other parents were any indication. She’d come to terms with the fact that, while blood relations may be the default for a lot of people, her strongest bonds were formed outside of that.

“I hope,” she said finally, knowing Topher was anticipating some kind of response, “one day I can see Capheus as family too.” And their mother. And his cluster.

“I hope so too. Being a sensate helps, yeah?”

“Definitely.”

*

Drug-induced unconsciousness seemed like the new normal.

Jonas was vaguely aware of time passing as he lay on his stretcher, dazing in and out as the Blocker coursed through his veins, shielding his mind from making connections. The whiteness of the room stung his eyes, so he kept them tightly shut.

One day, the familiar sensation of a needle jabbing into his forearm didn’t come when the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the start of another hour. What hour, he wasn’t certain. The chimes sounded the same, just a one-off ticking, and he’d long since lost count of how many he’d heard since he’d woken up in this room.

Perhaps the employee in charge of his next dose was a Veracity spy, who decided to give him a small window of time to reach out. The other possibility was BPO had given up on him. Or, more specifically, they had given up trying to pry the whereabouts of the August 8 cluster from his mind. For all Jonas knew, Will and the others could have already been captured. Interrogated. Or worse.

In his memory, Angelica shed a tear.

 _Still thinking about her?_ came Kareem’s voice, faraway but clearly his.

Jonas was too exhausted to question why his friend was off Blockers, too.

With a grunt, he willed his mind to seek out Kareem’s shelter, and opened his eyes when he felt himself sit against a wall. It was thankfully dark wherever Kareem was, and Jonas breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes welcomed the gray and dark gray and darker gray.

“I never stop thinking about her.”

“Didn’t expect you to.”

“Why are you here?” asked Jonas. _Why aren’t you Blocked?_

“Wanted to check if you were alive, that’s all.”

Jonas let out a dry chuckle, feeling the phantom ache in his chest back in his own physical body. “I appreciate the concern.”

“So?” asked his friend. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m not planning to be tortured for eternity, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“’Course not.” Kareem sighed. “You’re gonna try and fix things.”

Caught red-handed. Not that Jonas minded. It wasn’t like his friend could saunter into the Parliament facility and inform them about his plan.

“The upcoming invasion has given me an idea,” said Jonas.

“Invasion? What -” Kareem grinned wildly - “They’re gonna storm in, aren’t they? During the next attack? Good plan. Catch the Headhunters all in one place.”

“I’ve no doubt Will is determined to make them pay.” Something buzzed in Jonas’ mind. Not the Blocker kicking in; something akin to excitement. “And I’ll be ready for them.”

At that, Kareem turned to face him, his eyes wary. “Still planning to take care of Milt on your own? I should’ve known.”

“I found a simple solution, Kareem,” Jonas insisted. “It _will_ work.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“My last plan would have worked if Will hadn’t hauled me away from under Veronika’s eyes.”

“Your plan was literally: earn Veronika’s trust. Get close to Milton or Whispers or whatever you call him these days. And make him pay,” Kareem sounded unconvinced.

“All I need is one bullet,” Jonas insisted. But not through the heart. That would be merciful, and there was no mercy when Jonas was dealing with Whispers.

“You wanna keep him alive? After all the shit he’s done -”

“I’m not offering him a way out. I simply wish to prolong the time before his death.”

Kareem ran a hand through his wild hair. “You know, you could have told them the truth, Jo. Will and Mavis, and the others. It would’ve kept you from coming back here.”

Jonas’ eyes hardened. “They’re not going to keep Whispers alive for me. They will shoot the bullet between his eyes.”

“Why’s it so important to you? Keeping him alive?” _It’s not going to bring her back_.

And Kareem was right. Nothing could bring back the dead. Memories stayed in this world thanks to the Psycellium in apparition form, but that were hardly reincarnation. Angelica had gone somewhere he couldn’t reach. If he’d believed in Heaven or Hell, he would have been content, knowing if Whispers died, they’d still go in different directions. But Jonas believed all the dead ended up in the same, forbidden place.

If Whispers went there, he would be closer to her.

“So you’re gonna keep him alive ‘till you’re dying of old age?” Kareem shook his head. “I don’t see how you can. He’s freaking old. Already half-dead if you ask me.”

“He’s not much older than we are,” Jonas insisted.

“You’ve changed.”

That was a surprise. “I thought you said I haven’t changed at all.” 

“Some parts of you, no.” 

Jonas shrugged, conceding. “Are you going to stop me?” 

“Don’t think I can at this point,” Kareem admitted. “But I’m worried, mate.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m worried about how far you’re willing to go.”

How far Jonas was willing to go? Kareem hadn’t the faintest idea. Not that he wanted him to. For now, it was in Jonas’ best interest to keep the rest of his plan a secret. He closed his eyes and focused on other things, on his surroundings back in the torture chamber, pretending he was trying to find a way out so he could get to Whispers.

“I could send Stanley over,” Kareem suggested, interrupting his thought.

Jonas nodded. “That could work.” 

All he needed was someone to get him out. 

Back in the Parliament facility, he heard the door of his room open. With one last look at his friend, Jonas willed his consciousness back into his own body, welcoming the pain. The throbbing in his chest reminded him he was alive, for now. Not for much longer if all went well, though with Will’s cluster, he expected nothing less.

The employee gave him a slight nod, an acknowledgement of their shared alliance with Veracity, before they injected Jonas with the Blocker — a reduced dose, he noticed, to make up for lost time so the next employee wouldn’t notice anything was off. Within a minute, the familiar buzzing coursed through his veins, and the barrier around his mind was back, securing his thoughts from all his connections.

Angelica’s form appeared in front of him briefly before it flickered out of view.

 _Soon, my love,_ he thought. He didn’t know if she’d heard, or whether it mattered.

The birth of Angelica’s last cluster was almost prophetic. She had given her own life for their fighting chance and shot herself so Whispers couldn’t use her mind to get to them. Jonas knew, as soon as the children were reborn, that they were the only ones who could stand up to the _sapiens_ and the Headhunters. 

So Jonas had bided his time after her death, waiting for the final battle. It was what Angelica would have wanted, for him to help out in the war and bring down BPO. Jonas wanted the same thing: to watch the organization who took Angelica from him crumble.

And, When BPO was brought to its knees, begging for mercy from the loved ones of the sensates they killed, Jonas would take his own life and be reunited with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I edited this chapter on the plane on my way back to college (yep, school's starting again, whoo hoo *sobs*). Let's hope it's coherent. 
> 
> Also I'm writing out of order, big time (like, 1/4 of chapter 31 and all of chapter 33 level BIG TIME, but those are only first drafts, of course), so updates may come a little slower than usual but rest assured, this story never ventures far from my mind :)
> 
> And then... What the HELL is up with this Jonas dude, right? Why's he so freaking complicated? Honestly, I feel you all. He's one of the hardest people to write. But you shall have your full answers soon enough!


	31. It’s you I’m looking for, all of my days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the heroes figure out the next step in their BPO invasion plan, and Dani talks about her past.
> 
> “Now I see clearly  
> It’s you I’m looking for   
> All of my days  
> Soon I’ll smile  
> I know I’ll feel this loneliness no more  
> All of my days”  
> — From “All of My Days”, by Alexi Murdoch (S2E3)
> 
> **TW for mentions of abuse and biphobia.**

******August 5, 2017**

With all of them taking guarding shifts, Wolfgang found himself with the most erratic sleep schedule. Some days he slept in the late evening and woke before dawn; other times he’d find himself awake in time for sunset, having stayed up all night. He felt like he was a teenager again, cutting school with Felix, clubbing well into the unfortunate hours of the morning and waking up in the early afternoon.

But this time, he didn’t have puberty and family troubles to blame for his habits.

Judging by the way Henrik switched through the channels on the TV next to Wolfgang on the couch, straining to keep his eyes open, two shots of espresso sitting on the coffee stand, it would appear their post-hiding paranoia had affected even their hosts.

“You can go back to bed if you want,” said Wolfgang. “It’s almost five.”

Henrik scratched his head and yawned like he’d woken from a twelve-hours sleep. “It’s alright. I wanna be awake today.”

“Why today?”

“There’s always something to do.” Henrik turned off the TV, having given up the morning channel search. “Or at least that’s how it feels like.”

Wolfgang shrugged, conceding. “We can’t do anything until we hear from Hoy,” he pointed out. “And we’ll need guns.”

One video call to Mavis later confirmed there were Archipelago contacts volunteering to provide firearms after they all arrived in London. Before she could hang up, Damien peeked his head in front of the video camera. “Ooh! Can I come?”

“Damien!” Henrik was taken aback. “You’re up?”

“Yeah, what the hell, I thought you were in bed!” Mavis added. She exchanged a worried look with Henrik like she was regretting saying the details of what would possibly be a murder-invasion plan.

Damien stuck out his tongue. “I’m stealthy like a ninja. My whereabouts are undetectable. I’ll be honored to be part of the plan.”

“You’re not coming,” said Henrik.

“Aww, are you sure I can’t -”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Mavis interrupted, crossing her arms. “Did you sneak downstairs to eavesdrop?”

The boy grinned a shit-eating grin that reminded Wolfgang of Felix whenever he was trying to be cheeky. “What’s eavesdrop mean?”

Wolfgang watched the exchange, amused. 

“You don’t remember what Gina taught you?” Henrik pretended to play along. “Oh, you better revise. She’s gonna be mad.”

“You’re gonna help me revise. I know you will,” said Damien. “Because you don’t like it when Gina’s mad either.”

“Alright.” Henrik conceded, raising both hands. “I can tell you what it means. But don’t count on me for spelling.”

With some ushering from Mavis’ end, the kid was finally back upstairs. Mavis said goodbye and muttered something about coffee before she hung up too.

“We’ve been tutoring him, Gina and I,” Henrik explained after he shut the laptop.

Wolfgang nodded. “Two years is a long time.”

“He’ll have to go back to school one day. Even if he doesn’t want to,” Henrik added with a chuckle. “We didn’t know how long this situation was gonna stay this way, but it’s not like we can let him play video games all day.”

“Of course.”

With that said, they went back to silence. Henrik finished his coffee and, after pausing for a few seconds, decided to go make himself another cup, and asked Wolfgang if he wanted one too. Then they sat at the kitchen island and watched the sunrise through the window, the mugs warming their hands.

“So.” Wolfgang cleared his throat. He heard a teasing voice in his head asking what the fuck was wrong with him for starting a conversation, _like come on, Wolfie, did you even know what the fuck you were gonna say?_

Part of him wanted to nudge the imaginary Felix in the ribs and get him to shut up. The other part wished Felix wasn’t in Manchester with Dani, so he could do that in person, and watch his brother’s face twist into that “What? I’m telling the truth and you fucking know it” kind of glare.

“Yeah?” Henrik looked up.

Maybe imaginary Felix did have a point. He didn’t know how the fuck to go about asking, and he didn’t know why he’d decided to pry at all. “Do you know what you’ll do? After… this. With Damien.”

“Oh.” Henrik’s brows knotted into a frown, and he scratched the back of his head, a mannerism Wolfgang often noticed in Will. “Mm. I mean, Gina and I’ve been discussing, I mean it’s nothing for certain and we don’t know if we’re ready for this but the other options seem a lot worse and - I don’t know.”

“No, it’s -” Fuck. He shouldn’t have brought it up. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Wolfgang was aware of the situation with Damien’s mother. Painfully so, since Miki had explained the situation in case they let anything slip. He hadn’t mustered the will to take a closer look at the photos on the other set of stairs while he was passing by — thought he’d done it frequently, more than the others. A small part of him believed if he’d remembered Damien’s mother’s face, it would haunt him.

“Alright, it’s not set in stone, but if we don’t find his mother, Gina and I were thinking of adopting him. And I know we haven’t even finished school and we have no idea how to be guardians and all that but we didn’t want to send him to -”

“To an orphanage? I wouldn’t.”

Henrik’s eyes widened, a little surprised at the sharp tone of Wolfgang’s voice. 

Wolfgang shook his head. “You’re his family. You’ve been his family for the last two years.” 

Plus, he’d heard too many stories about how children suffered in the system. Not that living at his uncle’s was much of an improvement, but he sure as hell wouldn’t want Damien to lose his found family. He didn’t think Henrik and Gina would have the heart to leave him to fend for himself. From experience, they didn’t seem like the type.

“We are, we are,” Henrik mumbled, and took another sip of his coffee. “We’re just… We’re not sure how we can ask? If he wants to stay with us that’d be great, but, I don’t know. How do we… how do we tell him?”

“It’s better if you tell him before he finds out for himself.” 

It had taken one too-loud beating for Wolfgang to find out the truth about his own parents. He was four, and it was a few months before Veronika’s visit. Would it have hurt less if his mom had been open about everything? He didn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t go back in time and change things. But he was certain he would have been better prepared to brace himself when the man started laying a hand on him, too.

As for Damien? Wolfgang had a feeling the boy was more aware of the worst possibilities than he was letting on. He’d hidden it well, but Wolfgang noticed the too-wide smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, and the way he’d always bring up his fantasy of marching into BPO with a machete when they talked about the missing sensates in his presence.

It was like Henrik could read his thoughts. And he still wasn’t used to being an open book — he didn’t know if something in his expression gave it away. “I know he knows something’s up, but it’s not going to be an easy conversation.”

Wolfgang stroked the rim of his mug, looking down at his fingers. “It never is.”

“Yeah. And what if we tell him, and he accepts it, but he doesn’t want to stay with us?”

“I think he will.”

“You think so? Why?”

“He trusts you. And he respects you.”

“But I don’t know how to be a… a parent, or a… guardian.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve all been doing?” Wolfgang looked up. Henrik was staring back at him. “You’re not only his hosts. He listens to you. You’ve taken care of him.”

Henrik nodded slowly. “I’m not about to let him eat frozen waffles all day. And we all agreed he should keep up with school.”

“Exactly. You’ll work it out.”

“I want to watch him grow up. I know all of us do. Is that odd? We’ve only been with him for two years.”

Wolfgang shook his head. “It’s not odd.”

Felix came into his life when he was ten. His cluster? A lot later than that. But they weren’t any less of a family to him than they’d be if they’d grown up together. His blood relations meant nothing to him. Nothing was ever too late, for bonds like these.

“We’ll tell him after this is over,” Henrik decided. “And if we can’t find his mom by then, and he agrees to stay with us, we’ll need to enroll him in a school. Gina wants to finish her degree right away. I’m not in a hurry, myself, but I don’t think -” he chuckled, a little embarrassed - “I don’t think his reading skill is gonna improve if he stays with me.”

Wolfgang shrugged. “He learns in a different way. It doesn’t make you a bad teacher.”

“Thanks.” Henrik smiled. “But I know he’ll do better if he starts learning with someone who reads the same way he does, you know? And he needs to be with kids his own age, after spending two years with just us.”

“Nomi can take care of the paperwork,” Wolfgang offered. Normally, if he wasn’t Blocked, he’d have asked, but he knew Nomi would never refuse something like this. 

“Oh! Right, we’re technically all dead.” Henrik let out a snort. He calmed himself before taking his swig of his now lukewarm coffee. “So yeah. Great. Yeah. Umm, thank you.”

“Of course.” 

Wolfgang cradled his coffee mug and offered a small smiled back. The kid was fortunate enough to find a new family. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to let that slip away.

*

Veronika was no stranger to Bolger-induced attacks, but the Reciphorum capture in Paris was a first. Call it an experiment, but it was much more efficient than paying drug dealers to spike people’s drinks around one part of a country. With the news of the brain mutations and the fact that authorities showed up at the market shortly after people “collapsed”, it was natural to assume the two were linked.

A quick check on the Excel document on her computer confirmed what she remembered: the organization had caught three sensates that day. They would have captured a lot more if the Veracity infiltrators hadn’t meddled. Or the allies of the August 8 cluster who happened to be at the market that day.

She zoomed in the video until the blurry image of two women filled the screen. They were wearing a generous amount of disguises, including wigs. If they hadn’t dashed back to the market to save the others when the effects of the Reciphorum kicked in, they would have gotten away undetected. 

The first time she saw them run back there — four of them, not five, and she was livid the guards hadn’t caught the one who was affected by the drug — she had assumed they were good samaritans, nothing more. Except, she thought, tapping the fountain pen against the side of her desk, the Archipelago had acquired a new shipment of pure Blockers on the day of the operation. The supplier, according to her infiltrators, had come from Paris. 

And it was a simple deduction from there. These runaway sensates must have been involved.

“Paris,” she muttered, a little impressed, she had to admit. “They never left.”

The only problem was, her men had searched through all the abandoned buildings and back alleys and the underside of bridges, but there was no trace of the cluster. Ajay had suggested a search of Rajan Rasal’s apartment. There were signs that they had stopped by, but it was evident they had left.

If they were wanted by a government-funded organization, where could they hide?

There was a knock on her office door, and she pressed a button on the underside of her desk to open it. Milton stood there in his suit, expressionless as he exchanged a nod with her. “Good morning, Veronika,” he said, walking in.

“It’s not a good morning yet,” she said, gesturing for him to sit in front of her desk. 

He settled in the chair and faced her, barely containing the way the corner of his mouth twitched at the anticipation. “You haven’t tracked down their location?”

“I know it’s somewhere in Paris. Somewhere unexpected.”

“Unexpected? What about Iceland?”

Her hand twitched. “Lito’s appearance was a distraction.” One she had been foolish to fall for, but she wanted to chase all the leads, no matter how unlikely.

“Sounds like something they’d do,” Milton agreed.

“Perhaps they were taken in by members of the Archipelago. Someone who has a registered estate in the city, a place we wouldn’t think to look. It would explain their silence.”

The Headhunter frowned. “You think they’re planning something?”

“Most likely.” She would if she were them. “I expect we’ll hear from them when we launch the next operation.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to commence with the attacks?”

She tutted her tongue. “Don’t tell me you’re questioning my judgment, Milton.”

He looked like he wanted to retort, but thought better of it. “Is this a deliberate attempt to draw them out?”

“You could say.” Veronika stood up and gestured towards the door. “I’ve sent out a team of scouts to walk around the city. They’re searching for large houses, vacation homes, whichever place could hold more than a dozen residents at a time.”

Milton made his way out slowly, lingering back to wait for her to grab her favorite coat from the rack. “Have you considered they may have split up?”

“With the state of the Archipelago? Everyone’s going into hiding. They can’t have found a large enough shelter to take all of them. I expect some of them are staying behind.” She picked the trench coat off the rack and put it over her blouse, fastening the buttons. “I don’t need to capture all of them to draw them out.”

“You’re right.” The Headhunter looked pleased. If she weren’t there, she was sure he’d chuckle in glee. “The rest of them will come to the rescue, no matter who we’ve taken.”

She followed him out, adjusting the collars of her coat. The dagger brooch caught the light from her office window, and the small ruby embedded into the hilt gleamed as she ran her finger over the surface, feeling the cold metal sooth her skin. She’d never taken the brooch off the collar unless it was for dry-cleaning, but the silver was more polished than she remembered.

They stood side by side, waiting for the elevator. “I expect my men will have found their hideout by the end of the day,” she told him.

“Do you want me to go personally?”

She shook her head. “Let them stay,” she suggested. “Our next operation is in three days. They can make their own ways over and spare us the trouble.”

“Are you certain they’ll come to London?”

The elevator door opened, and she stepped in. She pressed the button to the ground floor and tutted her tongue. “They know where this facility is. And they’d be foolish not to know the Headhunters would be here to control our soldiers.”

“We’ll have to catch them before they catch us,” said Milton.

“We will.”

*

On his way to retrieve his morning coffee, an energetic tap behind his back woke Lito up from his newly-awake stupor.

“Ay, Hernando, that’s not funny -” Lito turned around and stared, wide-eyed, at the smug face of María standing behind him.

“It’s ten in the morning, sleepyhead.” María tutted her tongue, sauntered past him and snatched the pot of coffee from the machine, helping herself to a mugful. “I see you haven’t changed.”

Lito took the pot back and poured coffee into his own mug. “I’m only up so late because I stayed up for a guarding shift.”

“ _Sure_. A guarding shift.” María drawled with a wink. She put what looked like four cubes of sugar into her black coffee and stirred. “Aren’t you wondering why I’m here?”

“You finished your work in Berlin?” he guessed.

“I’ve been around France since the Reciphorum attack in the market. And then my boss decided he wanted me to stay here and look after you heroes.”

“You’re here as security?”

“We could help out in the lab too,” she suggested. 

“We?”

“Hey, Puck! Get over here!” she called behind her. Lito heard the front door to the house slam shut before footsteps echoed in the hall.

“Wha - what’re you yellin’ for?” Puck grumbled, massaging his temples as he trudged into the kitchen, his fading orange hair lighting up the room.

“Not my fault you went and got drunk last night.” María passed Puck the coffee pot. “Now come on, sober up and make yourself useful.”

“I think Kala’s already found the anti-Blocker.” Hernando walked in, fully awake. “Morning, María.” He looked at the other stranger. “Umm… Puck? Is it?”

“That’s my name,” Puck answered, downing his coffee with a miserable cringe.

“I know,” said María. “But you said you only have enough chemicals left for one prototype, right? So we’re here to deliver.” She took the backpack off her shoulder and put it on a chair.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hernando opened the fridge and took a step back, scanning what was on the shelves.

Lito sat down on the kitchen island and turned the chair around to face his partner. “Please tell me you’re in the mood for omelets, Hernando.”

Hernando sighed and looked at María. “Without me, he’d starve.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s terrible with breakfast foods -” María piped up. Puck let out a chuckle before he buried his head in his arms, hoping the darkness could drown the hangover.

“That’s not true! I -”

“Except for that one recipe his mom made him learn. The _tortilla de papas_.”

Lito crossed his arms. “Hey! I’m a decent cook!”

“He would be if he wakes up on time,” Hernando chipped in, lighting up the stove. He poured in the egg mix, and the pan hissed.

“Ha! You should’ve seen him when we were younger, Hernando. One time his mamá let me in at noon and he was still in bed snoring -”

“It was summer vacation!”

“You slept more than Chía!” She laughed. “My family cat,” she explained to a baffled Hernando. “Did you know Lito used to be scared of cats? And dogs. We had two German Shepherds. He tried to come over once, and they barked, and he ran away screaming -”

“María!”

Hernando poured the diced tomatoes and shredded cheese into the pan. “I like her.” He hid a chuckle. “You should stay, María. Stay for as long as you want.”

“Hernandoooo,” Lito groaned, “give me a break! You and Dani are bad enough!”

“Too loud,” Puck mumbled, face still buried in his arms.

María’s smirk widened. “I’d love to stay.”

“Three against one.” Lito crossed his arms. “That’s not fair. So not fair.”

*

Riley let her Blocker wear off and smiled when Mr Hoy appeared in front of her, as anticipated. The Archipelago had sent word that he’d be the one delivering the information, once the Veracity agents got hold of the details of the next attack. If they were to invade BPO, they wanted to do it at a time when Veronika and the Headhunters would be there.

More enemies in one place. A bigger target to strike. But it would expose them, too. The only question was, as Will put it, “who had the upper hand”.

“Morning,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Not good news, I’m afraid.”

“You found out more about the attack?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Aye. In three day’s time. At King’s Cross.”

“King’s Cross?!”

In her shock, she didn’t realize she’d visited him at the Paris safe house lab until she was met with the smell of chlorine and other chemicals her mind couldn’t distinguish. Not when Kala’s mind was unavailable. But she saw the other woman at the table, brows knitted in concentration as she added three drops of a clear liquid to a beaker.

“That’s the one. That’s BPO for ya — always pickin’ the crowded space.”

She nodded. That was no surprise. “Thank you.”

“S nothin’.” He waved her off. “You and your cluster’s got the invasion taken care of. The rest of us gotta do a thing or two.”

“You’re helping plenty, Mr Hoy” she reassured. “We’d be nowhere without the Archipelago.”

“Well, ’s long as we’re all bein’ helpful.”

Kala looked up from her station and waved at the air next to Mr Hoy with a smile, having deduced Riley had come to visit.

“How are the prototypes coming along?” Riley smiled back, even if Kala couldn’t see.

“Not bad. We’ve got new allies bringin’ us more supplies.” Mr Hoy nodded at Puck, who was washing test tubes at the sink. 

Puck winked at the space next to Mr Hoy, then blew a kiss. Riley had heard about Puck and María when Lito called them through a burner phone this morning, though Puck’s shameless flirting reminded Riley of the last time she was inside a lab with the Australian. She rolled her eyes. Mr Hoy chuckled.

“We’ll keep searching for a new safe house,” she told him. “There’s still no vacancy here or up in Manchester. But maybe somewhere else. Somewhere close.”

She wondered if Jonas had caved under the interrogation. If he did, it wouldn’t matter that they were so close to the BPO invasion that could end it all. If they’d been caught even a few hours before the King’s Cross attack, this would all have been for nothing.

“’M sure Miss Dandekar can handle the invaders. And her German locksmith? Handy with a gun, last I heard.”

“Yeah.” Riley smiled. “Sounds like Wolfgang.”

“But keep searchin’. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

With a nod, Riley willed her consciousness back into the living room of the Oslo safe house, Mr Hoy following along.

“Thank you for the news, Mr Hoy,” she said again, readying herself for a goodbye. “I’ll see you in London?”

“Don’ mention it. And it’s Alistair.”

Riley reached for the bottle of Blockers in her pocket. “Alistair?”

“My name. Alistair Hoy.” He winked. “Thought you’d like to know.”

*

“Mun’s in charge of dinner tonight.” Nomi peeked her head inside Sun’s bedroom door. 

She was taking a break from hacking, and Dani, who shared the room with Sun, was on a _The Mirror Has No Heart_ marathon with Neets in the living room. Apparently Dani had shown her one episode to demonstrate how to use a gun, and Neets had gotten sucked into the drama, to Lito’s utter delight.

Sun frowned, confused. “Isn’t it your turn to help him?”

“I wanna see if I can pull up more _sapiens_ ’ records,” said Nomi, using the excuse she’d rehearsed on her way upstairs. “Would you mind switching with me?”

After a pause, Sun crossed her arms. “You are setting me up.”

There was no use denying it. Sun could be pretty perceptive, often times to her enemies’ detriment, and… well, Nomi hadn’t seen her change her mind, ever. But unfortunately, right now, Nomi was on the receiving end of that skepticism. 

“I’m not setting you up,” Nomi started off, knowing Sun was anticipating her denial. Sure enough, Sun rolled her eyes. Nomi smirked and added, “Unless you… want me to?”

Judging by the way Sun quickly looked away to hide her surprise, it seemed to have done the trick. “I will talk to him. You don’t have to supervise me.”

“Okay then.” Nomi swung the door open. “Talk to him.”

“There is nothing I can say,” Sun insisted, sitting down on her bed. “You could have asked me before you messaged him and told him to come to Manchester.”

Nomi sat down next to her. “If I’d asked you, would you have said no?”

“Of course not. There is no good reason to let him go to Veronika.”

“So it worked out then.”

Sun propped her elbow against the back of the couch, turning to face Nomi. “Why are you so insistent on helping me?”

“We’re a cluster. Isn’t that what we do?”

It wasn’t because they were a cluster. What exactly it was, Nomi wasn’t sure. But she’d felt compelled to try and give these two a push in the right direction, especially when Sun was so adamant about making things difficult.

 _It’s ‘cause you’re a born matchmaker, Noms,_ said the voice in her head that sounded like Neets.

“Mun has been smiling at me all day,” Sun pointed out. “What did you say to him?”

Had he, now? It was getting harder and harder for Nomi to hide the smug grin creeping up her cheeks. 

“Okay, so I may have told Mun you’re not as annoyed with him as you want him to believe.” 

“Nomi!”

“If you don’t wanna talk to him, you don’t have to. But Mun’s helping us out, so he’ll be here whether you want him to or not.”

Seeing the Detective in person was much preferable to talking to him on the phone. All this time, Sun was going back and forth between “you can’t get involved” and “no, I can’t tell you where I am”. They were insufferable, to say the least, and Nomi was itching to do something about these two. 

Now that he was here? Of course Sun would be worried about his safety. Will had talked to Sun about it, but Will wasn’t exactly a matchmaker, though he did reassure her there was no talking Mun out of it, and left Nomi to deal with the feelings.

Great.

“Mun’s a cop, okay?” she picked up from where Will left off. “I’m sure he’s got enough skills on his hands to take care of himself.”

Sun looked unconvinced. “He got himself shot the last time.”

“You’re worried about him,” Nomi observed. 

Calling Sun out on her feelings seemed like a dangerous thing to do, but Nomi knew Sun had somewhat of a soft spot for her, possibly because she’d broken the other woman out of prison, and then out of the country. There was a chance for Nomi to get Sun to listen to her advice. Sun wouldn’t push her away, like she did to Lito countless times.

Sun. A _soft spot_. Lito would have snorted if he’d heard. He would’ve been jealous, too.

“I don’t want him to die,” said Sun. “That is all.”

 _Of course it was._ “There’s less chance of dying if the two of you fight together.”

“I can hold my own against the guards.”

“I know you can.” Nomi sighed, and scooted closer, facing Sun with a tired smile. Sun didn’t back away. “But we’re gonna need more people to hold the guards off. There’s a ton of them, and if we’re all there, BPO’s gonna unleash hell on us.”

Sun sighed, conceding. “I suppose it would be nice for someone to watch my backside. Strategically speaking.”

Right. _Strategically speaking_.

She could tell Sun wasn’t as bothered about Mun joining her in the fight as she wanted Nomi to think. As clever as Sun was, she wasn’t a liar, and for this particular situation, Nomi didn’t need to be connected to Lito to figure out why.

“I’m sure he’s been training himself for a rematch with you someday,” Nomi assured her. “But his combat skills will be just as useful around BPO guards.”

The real reason Sun was hesitant to let the Detective join her in the fight was something Nomi had lived through. Sun was comfortable fighting her own battles, and holding her own against multiple enemies. She had grown comfortable with defending herself, because no one else would have defended her if she didn’t.

Nomi had been the same way before she met Neets. It had taken her some time to come to stop denying her feelings for her now-fiancée, probably way more time than was healthy. And now Sun was facing the same problem with Detective Mun.

Of course, Sun had grown accustomed to fighting alongside Will and Wolfgang. But their connection made the experience unique. When their minds were connected, in a way they were fighting as one. It wasn’t going to be this way with Mun. And Nomi had all of three days to convince Sun to stop avoiding the Detective before they were going to stop the King’s Cross attack. No pressure or anything.

“For all our sakes, I certainly hope so,” said Sun.

“I know so.” 

Sun raised an eyebrow. “Capheus is rubbing off on you too?”

“Maybe. But I have faith in Mun.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve talked to him, and I know he cares. ”

“I will talk to him,” Sun gave in, after a minute of silence. “Only to make sure he does not have a death wish.”

Not exactly where Nomi was going with this. But with Sun, this was as good a start as any. She smiled. “I’m sure he has a lot less chance of dying when he’s with you.”

*

The person in charge of Jonas’ next dose came in late. In the five minutes’ delay, Angelica paid a visit in their shared minds. She stood by his recliner chair, a smile on her face.

He willed himself out of his physical body and stood next to her.

“I’ve missed you, Angelica.”

Angelica frowned. Jonas felt her reach deep into his mind, towards the abyss of violence he kept tucked away from view. Jonas had never considered himself a violent man. But he had made countless exceptions since he was captured by BPO the first time, and he suspected he would have to do so again, once he found a way to escape.

Thinking about it only brought the thoughts to the surface.

“I’ve always been here,” she said carefully, still prying. “When you needed me.”

“I need you now. I need you to tell me I’m -”

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

That wasn’t the answer he expected. “I can keep them from killing him -”

“You’ll lose them.” Memories of the August 8 cluster flashed by their minds, the visions she had of them before her death. “You’ve lost them once.”

He chuckled. “Will’s made it clear they could never forgive me for what I did.”

“There’s still time to fix it,” she insisted. “Isn’t that what you told me before Chicago?”

“I am more concerned with finding Whispers.” And keeping him alive. Barely, but alive. His death would have forced the _sapien_ leaders into hiding, making them harder to find.

“Is it really information you’re after?” Angelica’s eyes looked haunted. “Jonas, I’m a memory. I’m the product of your mind. You can’t lie to me.”

That made him smile. “I could never lie to you, Angel.”

“Why, then?” She didn’t smile back. “Why must you keep Whispers here?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Death would bring him closer to you.”

“You can’t keep him away forever.”

He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her shoulder, touching their foreheads together. She didn’t back away, but looked at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

“Eventually he will die, I know,” he said. “We all die in the end. But after this war, I’ll keep him here, and I’ll come find you before he does.”

“I’m not the woman you love, Jonas.” She said. It felt like a confession, the way she closed her eyes and willed the truth to come out without thinking twice. “Not anymore. The woman you love? She didn’t kill herself in Chicago.”

“You’ve always been you,” he insisted. “No one could change who you are.”

“That woman you love had died long before Chicago.” 

Jonas took a step back and tilted her head up by the chin, their eyes locking. “No -”

“We both know that’s the truth.”

“I love you.” 

“You loved me before I started working with them.”

“That didn’t change who you are.”

“Didn’t it?” Her voice broke. She backed against the wall. He tried to follow, but she shook her head. “The Angelica you fell in love with would never have killed.”

“Milton’s responsible for the deaths,” Jonas insisted. He didn’t walk closer, in case she disappeared from view.

“It was my research, Jonas.”

“He tricked you.”

“I knew what I was getting into. I thought the benefits outweighed the costs.”

“But you fixed your mistake. You -”

“What we have isn’t real,” she said. Her voice was quieter than the ticking of the clock on the wall. Footsteps echoed down the hall. The Hazsuits were approaching Jonas’ door.

“You’re the only thing that’s real.”

“No.” Angelica shook her head. When he looked at her again she was fading, the white of her dress disappearing within the whiteness of the wall. “Nothing about us is real anymore.”

*

“Shit,” said Nomi, turning to face everyone in the living room from her laptop. 

She and Bug had spent days un-cracking the protection system around his records, but tonight they’d broken through. Dani turned to Nomi from the couch she was sharing with Felix, _Conan the Barbarian_ on mute with subtitles as their attention darted between the sensates’ conversation and the hero movie Felix had been dying to show her.

On her screen was the photo of a man with a relentless smile, eyes hardened in irrepressible violence. With the leather jacket and golden chain around his neck, Joaquín Flores was recognizable to her, and to the rest of her cluster, from a mile away. 

On another window was his transaction records, recovered from a confidential file: regular transactions to a British account she and Bug had identified as BPO’s. And Dani’s parents weren’t his only business allies, judging by the money he’d sent to a personal account. A Russian one.

She could see the Manchester safe house through the FaceTime window on the corner of Bug’s screen. On the other end, Will moved closer. “What is it, Nomi?”

Next to her, Amanita reached for her hand and massaged her fingers, soothing the stiffened muscles from God knew how many hours of typing codes nonstop. “You found another _sapien_ investor, honey?”

Nomi nodded. “It’s -”

“Someone we know?” Will finished for her.

“My brother?” asked Sun from over in the open kitchen, where she was preparing dinner with Detective Mun’s help.

“Not yet. Maybe he’s making transactions to another BPO account, not this one.” 

Nomi sighed. Involvement with a multinational organization that they were planning to expose would add years to Joong-Ki’s sentence, if the court didn’t end up making him serve life based on his current charges. But he was kept in custody based on evidence of contract killing, and that would have to do for now.

“My parents?” came Dani’s voice.

On the FaceTime window, Will frowned in concern.

For a moment Nomi wondered if she should say his name out loud. Felix didn’t know about Joaquín, and she didn’t want to put Dani in a situation where she had to divulge her past. And Lito and Hernando were still in Paris, but Nomi knew he wouldn’t approve. 

“Not your parents,” she eventually mumbled.

She and Will exchanged a worried look through the camera, before she turned back and looked at Sun, who shook her head with a frown. Detective Mun looked between the two women, confused. But Sun went back to her chopping and shot him a glare, and he went back to stirring the pot without question.

“It’s _him_ , isn’t it?” asked Dani in a small voice. She didn’t stand up, but scooted over on the couch she shared with Felix, bringing herself closer to the hacker.

“Yeah,” Nomi admitted, feeling her chest tighten. So much for subtlety.

Felix, to his credit, didn’t interrupt and ask who Joaquín was. But Nomi could see him frown as he looked in the direction of the laptop. She pretended not to, and focused on Dani, who looked visibly relieved. “Would he go to jail for this?”

Nomi turned to Mun, who nodded. “Most likely. Better if you can get a confession out of him and prove he knows exactly what BPO was doing.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Will through the video chat. “I’m sure he’ll cave if we offer him a deal. Either way, it’ll be a long sentence.”

“Thank you, Nomi.” Dani smiled.

Nomi smiled back. Amanita was still holding her hand, and she didn’t know whose palm was sweating, hers or her fiancée’s. The aftermath of hunting down a criminal behind a screen. Of relaying what she’d found to someone who had suffered under his hands. “Of course.”

And then they were silent. With one last grateful nod, Dani moved back to the couch and leaned her head on Felix’s shoulder, prompting him to un-pause the movie before he could comment. He put his arm around her shoulder as they continued watching, and she didn’t acknowledge it, but snuggled closer.

Will, too, looked at them with a smile through the screen. “Laptop’s running out of battery,” he said, picking it up from the desk. He made his way upstairs. They both knew he wanted to give Felix and Dani some privacy. “Any more developments?”

“Now now. I’ll call you back if I find anyone else. Can you call Paris for me?”

“Sure,” he said, before he closed the video chat.

“You knew that evil-doer we found?” asked Bug. He’d been quiet this whole time, but he was frowning as he looked at her and Neets. 

“Yeah. My… my whole cluster does.”

He nodded, eyes gleaming with pride. “Justice is served.”

Nomi remembered the day Lito confronted Joaquín. Through their shared mind, she’d seen the fear in Dani’s eyes as Joaquín had made a move to grab her by her hair and pull her away from Lito, who was lying on the ground after the hard blow. 

“Yeah, Bug.” She cracked a smile. “Justice is served.”

*

Dani could tell Felix was looking at her. He’d tried to hide it by turning away the second she looked at him, by looking back at the TV like he’d been engrossed in the plot. Never mind that he’d probably seen this movie a hundred times, though his devotion to Conan made her chuckle. And the movie wasn’t too bad.

For her part, she’d pretended she didn’t think much about the fact that he tightened his hold on her shoulder. Manchester was pretty cold today, and she was wearing one of Hernando’s old university sweatshirts she’d stolen from his case. Felix stuck to his Hawaiian shirt wardrobe, but the warmth of his hands was unmistakably his.

She and Felix took part in the conversation about incriminating BPO at dinner as they passed around the bowl of bulgogi, courtesy of Sun and her Detective friend, which had run out within the first five minutes. The other guests at the table from various parts of the world had stayed silent and listened without making comments. Thankfully, Bug’s new discoveries diverted the conversation from any mention of Joaquín.

“I couldn’t find any surgical records for the missin’ people, buddy,” he said to Nomi.

Nomi frowned. “There are people who’ve been formally admitted into BPO, like Riley’s mom. I found their records.”

“Yeah?” Amanita put down her fork. “What’s it say?”

“Just that they ‘died’ in the facility.” Nomi sighed.

“That is hardly enough evidence to incriminate BPO,” Sun pointed out. “So there are no records for the people we think they had kidnapped?”

“There has to be some kind of record,” said Dani. “They’d keep track of who they used as soldiers. People like them always do.”

“Yeah. And when. And how they killed them, and when they did _that_ ,” Felix added.

“Anything can be hacked,” said Bug. “Smart of them to keep it on paper.”

Mavis talked about the files BPO kept on paper in their facilities, Dani remembered. In the Parliament one, it was floors 11 to 13. If they kept track of their kidnapped Bolgers somewhere, it would probably be there. Which meant -

“We’re breaking in, aren’t we?” asked Mun. 

By this point, the Detective had accepted the fact that Sun and the others were involved in enough illegal things to get them locked up for years. But he had offered his help, despite being a cop. Dani could see why everyone spoke highly of him.

“We need the evidence,” said Sun. Her expression remained serious, but there was a hint of teasing in her voice like she was challenging Mun to break the law.

Mun sighed. “Alright. Fine. But I was never here.”

After dinner, Felix stayed behind to help clean up. It would be all too easy for Dani hide away in the room she shared with Sun and Miki, but did she want that? Did she want to avoid talking about Joaquín, and hope Felix would forget about it eventually so they could go back to their endless teasing and drinking games? He wasn’t stupid, and she was sure he’d known more than he let on. 

But he wouldn’t say anything. He _hadn’t_ said anything. Maybe this time around, she was right about who she could trust.

They were gonna go confront BPO in a matter of days. With the resources they had, Dani wasn’t worried about dying. But she would be leaving after. What did she have to lose?

 _Felix,_ said Hernando’s voice in the back of her head. _You’d lose Felix._

“Help me with the dishes?” he asked from her sink, watching her standing there.

“Uhh, okay,” she said, before she could think of another excuse to run. 

“So,” he started, rinsing a plate, “wanna join me for the break in?”

“What other choice do we have?” she said. She thought she’d be relieved about the change in topic. She should have been. But really, she was… disappointed.

“Well, we gotta stop the Bolger attack. But I’d rather fight my way into the headquarters.” He put the plate on the rack and flexed his arms.

She laughed and picked up a bowl, running it under the tap. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll join you.”

It would be so easy to leave the conversation there and go back to the chore. Maybe as they were finishing up she could bully him into another drinking game. Or maybe they could watch _Conan the Destroyer_ — whoever owned this house had a huge collection of 80’s movies they’d left behind — and she could point out all the ways the action scenes were clearly fabricated, and he could do his very best to ignore her.

That was what she would have done a month ago. Hell, maybe even two weeks ago. But he’d been honest about his past after he came back from Beijing, and on the train here she told him about Belinda. He was, honestly, a pretty good listener.

She’d never been this comfortable with the truth with anyone, except her boys. What did it say about her, that she wanted to trust Felix, too?

“What are you thinking?” he asked, filling the silence. He turned off the tap and looked at her. God, he looked _worried_. She’d only seen him like that once before.

“I’m glad he’s gonna be locked up,” she mumbled, hoping he’d heard. She didn’t know if she’d have been able to repeat it if he hadn’t.

He didn’t speak, but frowned and pulled out two chairs from the dining table, inviting her to sit down. She sat and looked down at the ground.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked hoarsely.

How did he -

She looked up and saw him leaning closer, closing the gap between them. He watched her without blinking. “Yeah. Yeah, he did,” she said in a small voice.

“When?”

At the sharpness of his voice, she flinched. It wasn’t directed towards her, she knew, but she hadn’t seen him talk like that since the first night he joined them in London, when he thought they were the ones holding Wolfgang hostage.

“I’m sorry,” he added immediately, sensing her fear, “I don’t mean -”

“I know. It’s just… It was a long time ago. I spent the past year trying to forget him.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s better if I do. I mean, the whole cluster knows.”

“I don’t have to know if you don’t want me to,” he reassured. “Hell, Wolfie will take it to his grave. He’s good with secrets.”

“I know he is.” 

People like them always were, and saying it made her heart ache for Wolfgang. She didn’t know what he had gone through, but she could tell he knew more about her situation than he was letting on. Felix, too.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Dani. Whoever he is.”

“I used to date him.” She knew Felix was good with secrets too. It would be good for her to tell someone who could understand. “It started when I was in college. At first it was fun, casual… He’d take me out to dinner. We’d have a few drinks.”

He looked at her without saying anything, but she knew he was listening.

“We weren’t official. It was on and off, whenever he was in town. And I couldn’t exactly avoid him. I mean, back then I didn’t want to either. I didn’t know what he was.”

“Why couldn’t you avoid him?”

“He was a family friend.” She leaned back in her seat. “He and my parents were business partners. He’s known me since I was a kid.”

“ _Fuck_.” He muttered. 

“Yeah. I didn’t know any better. He was always funny, kind of charming… he listened to me, after Belinda left. He was the only one who did. I thought he was a real friend.”

The intensity in Felix’s gaze was back when she looked at him again, like he wanted to condemn Joaquín with the burning in his eyes alone. “He used you.”

“He got me to trust him.” That made it worst, the trusting. It made her confide in him. Made her tell him things she wished she could take back. “And God, I was so stupid, Felix. I shouldn’t have told him anything.”

“That _Arschloch_. It’s not your fault.” 

He didn’t ask what she said. Probably didn’t know if she wanted to tell him. But seeing Felix’s anger made the tightness in her chest lift. Only slightly, but the last time she felt that way was after the São Paulo Pride, when Lito snatched her case back from Joaquín.

“I kissed one of my sorority sisters.” She said. His eyes widened, and she nodded. “I didn’t know how it happened — it happened during one of our parties, and we both got a little tipsy, and… we kissed. And it felt good. Really good. I didn’t know who I could tell, and -”

“You told him.”

“He took me out to dinner the day after that party. We drank a lot. Mostly me. And he always drove me back to my dorm after a night out, but that night on the way back, I told him about the kiss. And he stopped the car, and turned to me, and told me I was _his_. He told me I could never see her again,” her voice broke. “And he didn’t drive me back to school that night, and I was too drunk by then to try and get out of his car.”

“That bastard.” Felix growled. “I’ll kill him.”

“Felix -”

“Did he blackmail you?”

“My parents were so happy when they heard we were dating.” She scoffed. “‘Good for business’, they said. That’s all they cared about. I’m sure if I told them what I did, they’d take me home and lock me up.”

“That’s fucking sick.” He shook his head. 

It was. It had been since the beginning, but she was so fucking blinded by Joaquín’s sweet words. A lot of people were, but she was especially mad at herself for falling for it. She should have known better. She usually _did_ know better.

“He said he’ll tell my parents what I did unless I agreed to be his girlfriend. So I agreed. I didn’t want to, but if he’d told my parents and they forced me to come home they’d probably have let him marry me anyway.”

A dark look lingered in Felix’s eyes. “This was before you moved to Mexico City?”

“Yeah. I moved there after I finished college. That’s how I became an actress. I thought that part of my life was over, you know? But he followed me there a year after.”

Dani reached for Felix’s hand, somehow, without realizing. After a second’s hesitation he took it, his signature warmth coursing through her body. She’d never noticed how coarse his hand felt, with all the scabs and calluses scratching the surface of her skin, but she supposed all that fighting and making keys had made their mark.

“So how’d you get out?” he asked. He sounded scared.

“I fucked his best friend. It was a whole falling-out. He and Joaquín had words.”

Felix swallowed and met her eyes again.

“You know, it’s funny,” she continued. “At the time I was co-starring in this telenovela with Lito, and I thought Lito was into me. He looked like he was into me. And I thought maybe if I started dating _him_ , Joaquín would leave me alone.”

And in a way it worked out — not the way Dani had intended, but still. She felt safe with Lito and Hernando. They took her in and protected her. And they paid the price for it.

“He blackmailed them too?” Felix asked, still looking at their interlocked hands.

She should have been concerned Felix was so good at guessing. Sooner or later, he’d know all her secrets. But to her surprise, she realized didn’t mind him knowing.“Yeah. Wolfgang helped fight him off, actually. Twice.”

“Sounds like Wolfie.”

Through Lito, Dani had come to know how protective Wolfgang could be. Even if he didn’t talk much. Even if he tried to play it off like he didn’t care. “He’s a good friend. If it weren’t for him I’d still be stuck there.”

Felix tensed. “With Joaquín?”

“Joaquín got a hold of my phone.” _My fault. Completely mine._ “He found… things Lito and Hernando didn’t want people to know.” 

He nodded, understanding.

“And he blackmailed them. So I handed myself over.”

“ _Shit_.” Felix leaned in closer and tightened his hold on her hand, like… almost like he needed to make sure she was really here. Not there.

“I agreed to marry him, so he could keep the thing a secret. But Lito and Wolfgang saved me.” And seeing Joaquín lying on the ground that day? It felt fucking liberating. “You should have seen them.”

“Wolfie would never have let him get away with this.”

She supposed Wolfgang wouldn’t. And she was thankful for that.

“Joaquín was violent,” she added. “He’d get angry if I say something he didn’t want me to say. And the worst part is he’d apologize the day after, and he’d be sweet for a few days, and I’d feel terrible for being so angry with him.”

“Dani,” Felix’s voice jolted her from the bad memories, “did he hit you?”

“A few times. He -”

“I’ll kill him.” Felix pulled his hand away from her, curling it into a fist. “He’ll be sorry he ever laid a hand on you.”

The moment their eyes locked, she knew it wasn’t a lie. He would fight Joaquín for her, even if it meant he’d lose. There was a reason no one wanted to confront Joaquín. She didn’t want Felix to find out what the reason was. 

“You don’t have to fight him, Felix. They’ll lock him up.”

“He could escape.”

“He’ll be an idiot to come looking for me if he does. The police will look for him at my place first thing.” _And my parents’._  

Felix looked at his clutched fist. “He’ll be an idiot to escape.”

“But I’m worried, Felix. He’s been friends with my parents since before I was born. They’ll try to find a way to get him free.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna stop people like him.”

“Wolfie’s psychic gang would never let him get away with this, Dani,” he reassured. “Have you _seen_ the shit they’ve pulled? They literally kidnapped a dude and interrogated him like dirty cops. Wait, no - _two_ dudes. And Lila. And now they’re planning a raid. A fucking raid.”

After all this time, Dani was still surprised at Felix’s weird ability to make her chuckle. “Yeah, I guess they’re pretty good at fighting the authorities.”

“Seriously, they wanna lock every bad guy behind bars. Or kill them. That includes _him_.”

He did have a point. After what Wolfgang did through Lito to get her out the first time, she doubted he’d let Joaquín get away from his charges without a fight.

“And besides,” Felix added, patting her on the shoulder. She didn’t know when he’d gotten up from his seat and walked behind her, “If he does break his sorry ass out of prison and tries to hurt you again, he’ll have to go through me.”

“Yeah?” She stood up and followed him back to the sink, picking up a mug. Felix was serious about beating up Joaquín for her, and that alone made her smile. But whenever he talked about fighting, she got this urge to tease him, just a little. “What can you do?”

“Please.” He ran a newly scrubbed plate under the tap before adding it to the rack. “You haven’t seen me in a brawl. They always underestimate me, and I always kick their ass. I’m experienced at this whole fighting thing.”

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m serious.”

With a shrug, Dani pretended to go back to doing the dishes. She rinsed out the mug in her hands and laid it on the rack, before turning abruptly to flick water at Felix’s face, to his utter indignation. He swore, before he turned on the tap again and ran his hands under water. She yelped and ran out of the kitchen into the living room, knowing what he was about to do, and shielded her face with a couch cushion.

“Fine. Hide from me all you want.” She peeked from the top of the cushion and saw him raise his hands in surrender. He sauntered back to the kitchen and took out the bottle of Cognac he’d bought back in Paris from the cabinet, and waved it at her. “I’m gonna finish this whole thing without you.”

He did know how to get her out of hiding. That was pretty impressive, considering the only other people who knew how to bait her were her boys. So, with a dramatic groan, she trudged back into the kitchen and snatched the bottle from his hands.

“Alright. You win. So what’s it gonna be? Two truths and a lie?”

The shit-eating grin was back on Felix’s face. “Actually, I’m not in a drinking mood.”

She couldn’t even pretend to get mad. But she did punch him lightly on the shoulder, for good measure. “You wanna show me _Conan the Destroyer_?”

“Yes!” He perked up.

“But uhh, we really should finish these dishes.”

The rest of their chore session was, thankfully, fight-free. But from the corner of her eyes, she saw him smile. Whether that was the prospect of binging Conan or the fact that she’d accepted his hypothetical help in beating up Joaquín, she wasn’t completely sure. But whatever it was made her smile right back.

“And Felix?” she said again, picking up a fork.

He looked at her with a tilted head, side-eyeing the tap in case she was going to sneak up on him and challenge him to another impromptu water fight. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Like I predicted, I wrote out of order, big time. One of the perks of being a "plans everything in advance" sort of writer, unfortunately for you all. I will say, the next few chapters, starting from 33, will be pretty challenging action-wise, so I might take more time off to edit them and make sure they actually make sense. 
> 
> A lot of the conversations in this chapter are a long time comin' and I was smiling like an idiot as I typed them out like "Yeahhhh. Finally. They're gonna hear this. Now's the time to make them scream."
> 
> There may or may not be another week-long hiatus before chapter 32, depending on how the rest of the drafts for chapters 35 and 36 will go (33 has been beta'd and ready for another round of editing, and 34 is sitting in my beta's inbox). 
> 
> We'll see if my brain cooperates :) But rest assured, the story is there, haunting me every hour of the day.


	32. All of time was running dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which confessions are made before the battle is due.
> 
> “I had a dream that all of time was running dry  
> And life was like a comet falling from the sky  
> I woke so frightened in the dawning, oh, so clear  
> How precious is the time we have here”  
> — From “Wise Enough”, by Lamb (S2E6)  
>    
>  **TW for depictions of abuse and blood.**

**August 6, 2017**

At six in the morning in the Oslo safe house, someone knocked on the front door.

Riley and Will had been on the last guarding shift, and they exchanged looks of unease. No one was expecting company. Without having to ask, Will had sprung up from the couch and sprinted towards the door as fast as he could without making his footsteps heard. Riley followed close behind, aware that her heart was beating faster with each knock. They couldn’t have been found. Not now. Not when they were so close to -

Clara, Amélie’s mother, was standing at the door.

“Sorry,” she apologized, and Will and Riley, relieved, stepped aside to let her in. “I was going to tell you ahead of time but - the Archipelago says you’re Blocked? And -”

“It’s alright,” said Will. He invited her to the kitchen. “It’s better this way, just in case - you know. You sure you’re not followed?”

Clara nodded.

“You’re here for Amélie?” Riley asked. A part of her wondered why she sounded almost disappointed. She hadn’t known the child for long, she told herself, as she put the kettle on.

“ _Maman_!” 

Riley turned in time to see Amélie standing on the top of the staircase. Before the toddler could trip over a step in her excitement and tumble down the stairs, Will had already sprinted his way over and picked her up from the ground. She giggled in glee as Will carried her down and brought her straight to her mother.

“ _Ma chérie_ *****!” Clara exclaimed, tickling her daughter, who was now settled into her lap. The sound of Amélie’s laughing made Riley smile. She sat down next to Will and watched the reunion between mother and child across the table, aware of his arm around her shoulder.

“ _Merci_ ,” Clara said to Will and Riley. “Thank you so much for looking after her.”

“Of course.” Amélie was trying to reach for Riley’s hand across the table now, squirming as her mom tried to hold her still. Riley leaned forward and stretched out her hand for the toddler to take. “It was our pleasure.”

Clara stroked her daughter’s head. “She isn’t like this with most people.”

“She isn’t?” asked Will.

“She has too much energy.” Clara tutted her tongue, feigning annoyance. Amélie turned around and tried to burrow her face into her mother’s chest, to Riley’s amusement. “But she uses most of that energy for screaming.”

Riley recalled the first day the child came to their safe house in Paris. That was only about two weeks ago, but the day seemed further away every time she revisited the memory. She couldn’t say for certain when the toddler had grown on her, only that now the pain of her past was background noise, buried under the sound of a bubbly toddler’s babbles.

Will chuckled. “Well, I’m glad she took that leap of faith.”

“Amélie has quite a memory,” Clara told them. “And she likes you both. She will remember you, the next time she sees you.”

“Will she?” Riley lowered her head to meet the toddler’s gaze. She wasn’t sure how much English Amélie had picked up during her stay, but the girl nodded vigorously, with all the conviction a two-year-old could muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Will gave Amélie a serious look, which made her giggle. He got up and took out the mugs and teabags, filling them with water.

“Okay,” Clara promised, looking at Riley as she hoisted her daughter up. “ _Dis_ ‘okay’,” she told Amélie. “ _Et serrer des_ _mains_ ******.”

“O-kayyy!” Amélie exclaimed, sticking out her hand for Riley to shake.

“Okay.” Riley shook her hand. “Promise?”

Amélie scrunched up her brows for a moment, before blurting out, “Pwomise!”

Will, chuckling amusedly, returned with their tea, keeping Clara’s out of reach for the toddler. “Are you two going back to Paris?”

“Oh, _non_.” Clara sat Amélie back on her lap, ignoring her grunt in protest. “I have an old friend. He lives here, in Oslo. We can stay with him.”

“And your job?” Riley asked.

“Ahh, yes. I asked for three days off before I will have to go back. The Archipelago, uh, they told me it is almost time?”

“Yeah.” Will sighed. “We’re leaving for London tomorrow. Then the day after tomorrow -”

“Yes, yes.” Clara looked worried. “Good luck.”

Riley nodded. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Clara insisted, her tight-lipped smile giving away her worry. “Be careful.”

*

Milton’s cluster was dead. Sometimes he talked to them in his sleep. Their conversation was always whispered, and they shared secrets that Milton could never remember upon waking.

Angelica had once asked why he didn’t talk to them when he was awake. Being a sensate, after all, gave him an advantage in revisiting the past. It was much more difficult when his consciousness was there, reminding him of the fact that his cluster wasn’t. But now, as Whispers (he would always be _Whispers_ to his prisoners) watched Jonas stir in his reclining seat in the interrogation room, his latest dose of Blockers slowly wearing off, the Headhunter closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip back into his memories.

Back to Leonora.

He saw the world through her eyes much easier than he did with Ismael. The Egyptian used to tease him about it, in that particular good-natured way that made him want to roll his eyes and pretend to be exasperated. But then Ismael would close his own eyes and share the view with Milton, and they’d find themselves in that little house in Naxos she called home.

_I’ve been watching you._

Even after thirty years, Xanthus’ voice still brought a shiver to Milton’s spine. There was only so much he and Ismael could do to keep her away, but the violence from her husband was inevitable. He had once asked Nora why she wouldn’t leave. But she’d been betrothed to the man since she was twelve, she told them. 

She had two younger sisters, three brothers, and parents who didn’t care about their daughters. Knowing Xanthus, she’d said, he would go after them if she’d run. It was just like Nora to sacrifice herself to keep him away from them.

 _W-watching me?_ asked Leonora, backing away.

Milton was in their kitchen, and he felt himself back away in Leonora’s place until her back was against the wall. Xanthus walked around the kitchen island slowly, his leery eyes trained on her in case she tried to escape.

_I heard you talk to people who weren’t there._

_Oh, I - I was talking to myself,_ said Milton in her place.

_Lies!_

Ismael tried to get her to move, but Xanthus was too quick for them. His hands were on Leonora’s shoulders now, pinning her against the wall. She squirmed, feeling the pressure of his hands on over bones, her old bruises throbbing under the pressure.

He leaned in so he was whispering close to her ear. _I know about people like you. I’ve worked with people like you._

 _P-people like me?_ Ismael said, looking at Xanthus innocently in her place.

Xanthus let her go. _Sensates._

 _Nora,_ Milton whispered, appearing at her side now. _Deny it._

She backed away towards the kitchen island. A faint idea crossed Ismael’s mind — _which one’s the knife drawer again?_ — and she shook her head slightly.

 _Oh,_ said Xanthus, looking between her and the open space where Milton was moments ago, _is that them? Your cluster?_

If Leonora had dared turn her back for a few seconds, she would have run. But the last time she’d tried, he’d caught up and hit her from behind. Instead, Milton guided her hand until they found the knife drawer. Before she could protest, he and Ismael had found the handle and willed her to pull out the knife, and pointed it at Xanthus.

Her husband snorted. _Seriously, Nora?_

She flinched upon hearing the nickname. Xanthus had never called her Nora. It was something she and her cluster shared, just the three of them.

 _Come now, my dear,_ Xanthus continued, the corners of his mouth twisting into a sneer. _How many times have you made that threat?_ _And we both know you won’t do it._

 _Nora,_ Ismael warned, appearing behind her. _Back away. Slowly. Back away._

She did.

 _You’ll work for me,_ said Xanthus, looking nonchalantly between her face and the knife in her hand. _You and your cluster, you’ll be very helpful in our operations._

She backed against the kitchen sink, and she shuffled to her right, inching closer to the front door, knife still pointed at Xanthus’ chest.

 _We will never work for you,_ Ismael said in her place.

He laughed. _I never asked._

The front door opened, and three more men came in, blocking the way from the kitchen to the only exit. 

 _Take her,_ Xanthus ordered. _We’ll find the rest of her cluster soon enough._

The last thing Milton remembered, as Leonora forced their consciousness out of her mind, was the glint of light on the blade as she turned it towards herself.

“You never cared about her.”

Jonas’ hoarse voice jolted Milton from the memory. For a second he regretted not bringing his usual round of employees as assistance. He didn’t feel particularly inclined to electrocute the man today, but it had always been an effective intimidation tactic.

“It’s hardly your place to say,” was Milton’s response. There was no need to be emotionless around Jonas, not when the other man’s emotions were looming close, circling the dark space of their shared mind like a never-ending echo.

Jonas took a moment to catch his own breath. Yesterday’s electrocution had given him quite a bruise, and every pained breath he took reminded Milton how close he was to fading away. They didn’t need to question Jonas on the August 8 cluster’s whereabouts anymore — Veronika said the cluster would come to _them_ — but after Jonas had escaped from a BPO facility twice, once with Kareem in tow, Milton was determined to keep him here.

“Not _her_ ,” said Jonas, who sounded pleased with himself. “Not Leonora. _Angelica_.”

Jonas was saying Leonora’s name to get a rise out of him. Milton stopped the twitch of his fingers in time, determined not to give Jonas the satisfaction. He cooed, the corners of his mouth twitching into a momentary smile. “Oh, Jonas. Are you envious that Angelica returned my affections?”

“Are you here to torture me again?” Jonas changed the topic abruptly. 

Milton chuckled. Jonas had never managed to hide his emotions so well. A vengeful sort of anger reverberated around their consciousness, and an image flashed by — Jonas’ hand on Milton’s abdomen, pressing hard against a fresh bullet wound. Blood seeped between Jonas’ fingers, coating the back of his hand, but it was worth it just to hear Whispers scream.

“Is that how you’re planning to kill me?” he asked. “Let me suffer before I die?”

A hint of amusement crossed Jonas’ mind. “Who said I wanted you to die?”

But Jonas was at his mercy, strapped from top to bottom on a recliner chair. Milton stood up and towered over him, sneering in the way Xanthus used to do in his nightmares. “You will do all this because Angelica didn’t love you back?”

“You never loved her.” Jonas’ voice sounded like a growl, never mind the coagulated blood clogging his throat threatening to choke him. “Leonora was the only woman you ever loved. And you killed her.”

Milton’s fist collided with Jonas’ jaw. It was the first time he’d confronted anyone in this way since he’d confronted the man responsible for his Father’s death, but as he drew his hand back, he welcomed the numbness of his knuckles before the bruises would set in.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Milton said tauntingly, taking a step back. “But I couldn’t say the same for you, Jonas.”

“You killed Angelica!” Jonas thrashed in his seat. Then he coughed. The blood from his mouth dribbled down his chin. He turned his head to the right. A few drops of his blood splattered against the white marble floor.

“Did I?” Milton put on a tone of mock curiosity as he sat on his stool again. He wheeled it forward until he was sitting close enough to see the bitter hate in Jonas’ eyes. 

Jonas, as he predicted, didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Oh, Jonas, Jonas.” Milton tutted his tongue. “You think I don’t know why you asked Angelica to kill herself?”

“She killed herself of her own volition.” Jonas’ voice was bitter. “But she took her life because of _you_.”

“Angelica had been on the run from us for weeks,” Milton pointed out. “Every time I was close to catching up, she had made that threat many times. But she never carried it through, until the last night. The night you appeared.”

“She wanted to protect her children from you -”

“Deception isn’t your strong suit. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“You took her away from me.” _A diversion. Predictable._ “And you changed her. You changed her into a woman she would never have wanted to become.” 

It wouldn’t do to gloat until he threw the final punch, one that would break more than a  jaw. “She could never live up to the image of her you have in your mind, Jonas. You and I both know that’s not who she is.”

Jonas scowled. “Angelica wasn’t like this when I met her. You corrupted her.”

And there it was. Somehow — it was quite unfair, really — Milton had been given all the blame. “So that was her punishment for giving in to my corruption? Death?” 

Silence. Milton could hear countless voices in Jonas’ head and knew the other man was contemplating how to respond without admitting his own selfishness.

“You convinced her it was to keep her children safe,” Milton continued, betraying no emotions with his voice. Thanks to his father, he had learned how dangerous it was to wear his heart on his sleeve. “But it didn’t stop me from finding them, Jonas.”

“Riley’s capture was an accident -”

“ _Precisely_.” Milton allowed the smallest hint of glee to come through in his voice. “Don’t you see? Angelica could have lived.”

“You think I’d trust you to keep her alive? -”

“It was only a matter of time, Jonas. I would have found Angelica’s children either way. I didn’t need sensates to track down Miss Gunnarsdóttir the first time.”

“I’m hardly a murderer, _Milton_.” Jonas spat out the _t_ in his name, and a speckle of blood landed on Milton’s cheek. “Whatever I’ve done, I have never lobotomized a member of our species to use as a pawn.”

Milton swallowed. He wanted to wipe the blood away. But that was Jonas’ intention — to get a rise out of _him_ , like he’d done with Jonas.

“When Angelica gave birth,” Milton continued with a sneer, ignoring Jonas’ glare, “and I was close to tracking her down, you realized you couldn’t kill _me_. You didn’t have the guts to face me. And you would never let me have her.”

Angelica’s face flashed through their minds, the last glimpse Milton had caught of her before she’d shot herself in the abandoned church. 

“So you asked her to die.” Milton’s uttered these last words slowly like he was bringing a bedtime story to an end, a tactic he’d practiced on his daughter countless times. “You convinced her to kill herself, under the guise of keeping the children safe. And she was scared. And so she believed you.”

“Angelica always trusted me.” 

The coldness in Jonas’ voice was familiar. It reminded Milton of the way he’d spoken when he brought his sensorium research to Dr Kolovi, immaculate notes he’d jotted down during his first lobotomy. _Trust me,_ he’d said. _This brain came from one of my own._

“Mm.” Milton stood up and headed towards the door. He turned to face Jonas again before he stepped out. “Trusting you was her biggest mistake.”

He could say the same for Will, and Lila, and all of their cluster. It wouldn’t be long before Milton would catch them, too. Like Mother, like children.

*

Yesterday, Kala had left a voicemail for her family explaining her situation after some convincing from Lito. Wolfgang had been with her for the first three takes, but those messages she deleted as soon as the time limit was up — there were too many sorry’s and stutters and explanations and apologies and holding back tears. The last thing she wanted to do was make them more confused than before. 

Eventually, they’d left her alone in the lab, and she read her message from a script.

Still, it had taken Kala five minutes to get across the fact that she had requested a divorce from Rajan. Ten to explain it was because she was in love with someone else. And five more to reiterate that no, they did not know this man. At all. He wasn’t from Mumbai. They had never heard of him.

She had never talked about him.

When the burner phone had buzzed as she was cleaning up after lunch, she nearly dropped her plate in the sink. Wolfgang’s reflex kicked in, thankfully, and the porcelain was saved before it could break. 

All eyes were on her, and the phone was still buzzing. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and picked up the phone. Lito ushered everyone upstairs and left her alone with Wolfgang, who led her by the hand to the empty living room until they were both sitting on the couch, facing each other.

She pressed the green “receive” button on the old Nokia. “H-hello?”

“Kala!” It was her father, and he sounded relieved. “How - how have you been?”

She knew Rajan had told her parents she was in Paris. He’d promised he’d tell them before she’d left Mumbai. The last thing Kala needed was her picture on a missing person flyer.

Wolfgang frowned, and she cringed. He nodded, understanding, and put his arm around her shoulder, stroking her hair in comfort with this hand.

“I’m still in Paris,” she said, avoiding the question. “Okay” wouldn’t have been an honest answer. “I’ll have to stay for a little longer.”

“I know,” said her father. “It’s not safe for you.”

“And you? What about you, and mom, and Daya -”

“We’re at a safe house,” he explained. “We’ve been here for nearly two weeks. The three of us, and even auntie and your cousins.”

Kala smiled, relieved that Rajan had kept his promise. When they’d met up in Lyon, he’d informed her Ajay was still being investigated right before she told him everything. Until Ajay could be fully incriminated, Rajan had said, he’d rather they all be safe than sorry.

“That’s good.” Was this why he called? To tell her they were okay? Did he not receive the -

“Rajan told us about the genetics, and BPO,” her father continued.

Kala froze, the previous question completely gone from her mind. “H-He told you?”

“Yes. Everything.”

“Oh my Ganesha.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip, hissing in pain when her teeth scratched the skin. Wolfgang turned to look at her in concern. She gave him an unconvincing smile but didn’t meet his eyes.

“He said he had to take care of something back in his company, but we’re staying here.” His voice lowered. “He also mentioned there’s something else you wanted to tell us.”

She shut her eyes and massaged her temples, cringing. “Dad -” 

“We heard your voicemail.”

Kala’s hands grew cold. Not that this wasn’t what she’d expected, but anticipating her parents’ responses did nothing to alleviate her anxiety. She heard a door opening from his end of the line. Her sister’s voice came through a few paces away from the receiver. “Kala?! Is that Kala on the phone?”

“Daya -” Kala started.

“You said you’re in love with someone else.” Her dad interrupted, wholly ignoring her sister’s insistence on speaking to her.

Wolfgang drew a sharp breath. She snuggled into his chest, still facing forward. She didn’t know if looking at his face would make this harder, but she couldn’t afford to try. “I am.”

Someone cursed in Punjabi from the other end, a word Kala only heard twice before, both times from a rather unruly cousin. This time it was her _mom_ , the voice unmistakable but uncharacteristically… angry? 

Kala didn’t expect her mom to be in the same room, listening in. Her heartbeat quickened with the nerves. Her stomach sank as she imagined what her admission must’ve sounded like on loudspeaker.

“M-Mom?” she uttered. She didn’t know if she’d said it loud enough. Or if she’d said it out loud, at all, for that matter.

Her father said something to the others in the room. She strained to listen in, but he’d covered the microphone. She heard _please_ and _not now_ and _later_.

Kala’s voice shook when she spoke again, “Dad, what’s -”

“Your mother is… a little emotional right now,” her dad explained. He spoke in a higher pitch, and Kala had gone through enough acting lessons with Lito to deduce he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “She’s… Well, Kala, you have to understand this was very sudden -”

“I know, dad, I -”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief, her chest still aching. “Dad, I’m… I’m sorry.” 

That wasn’t a lie; she was done with lying after she’d told Rajan the truth. She _was_ sorry for breaking the news to her family in this way, while she hid away in a vacation home in Paris, waiting to strike an international, government-funded organization. But waiting to tell them in person after this is over? She panicked at the mere thought of being in the line of fire from her mother’s wrath.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. His voice gave way to no anger, no disappointment. 

“I lied, dad.” Tears streamed down her face, and she dabbed it away with the back of her palm. Wolfgang reached forward and drew her hand away, wiping the tears himself without meeting her eyes. Her chest felt tight. “I lied about how I felt.” _About who I loved._

He sighed. “I had hoped you’d tell me the truth.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Kala said again. A sob escaped, and she put her hand against her mouth, tasting the salty remnants of her tears.

“I’m sorry too.”

She removed her hand and lifted her head. “I’m - wh-what?”

“I’m sorry if I made it hard for you to trust me.”

“No, it’s - it’s me, dad. I -”

A pause, before, “It seems to me I’ve jumped to a conclusion too soon.”

That made her frown. She sniffled, steadying her voice. “About what?”

He hummed. “You remember when Rajan proposed?”

 _Yes_. After Kala had agreed to marry him, she’d spent countless days replaying the memory in her head, wondering what she could have said, what she could have done, if she’d been given another chance. She wondered if she’d have the courage to reject him the next time, or if she would cave again at the sight of her parents and her sister and auntie beaming. And their customers. He’d chosen to propose at her family’s restaurant, of all places.

“I remember.”

“He asked for my blessing,” her father confessed. “And I told him he had to let you make the decision. But I also said I was sure you’d say yes.”

“Oh.” She didn’t blame her dad. For a while, she thought this was how romance and love and marriage worked, and she’d warm up to him eventually. She nodded even though he couldn’t see. “But still, I should have told him the truth back then.”

“Hmm. So why didn’t you?”

“Because I - because you -” 

 _No more lies_ came Lito’s voice in her head. She wished Lito would come downstairs in person, but, like everyone else, he’d decided to give her space and shut himself in his bedroom. Wolfgang’s arm around her stiffened. She reached for his hand and squeezed, feeling sweat gather in her palms.

“Because you looked so happy,” she said finally. “You, and mom, and auntie and Daya… And Rajan was — _is_ — a nice man, and you liked him. I didn’t want to break your hearts.”

“I see,” he said after a few seconds, as calmly as ever. Her father rarely lost his temper, but she was still surprised at his reaction. She’d expected… she didn’t know _what_ she expected. “Have you ever wondered _why_ I like him?”

 _Why_? She frowned. Who didn’t like Rajan? Every woman in the company was crazy over him, and he was courteous and diplomatic, and charming. And a rebel. She thought _she_ was crazy, for not reciprocating his crush.

“You said he’s a good man,” she guessed.

“There are many good men in the world. None of whom deserve my daughter, but I had once believed he came close enough.” 

She couldn’t help chuckling.

“But I didn’t like Rajan because he was a nice man,” he continued.

“Then why?”

“I liked him because I thought he made you happy.”

And for a few months after the engagement, she was convinced he _would_ make her happy. Eventually. Or, she had hoped he would. But now the memories felt like a lifetime ago, like they were part of the life of another Kala, one who had never met Wolfgang.

“Rajan was good to me,” Kala admitted. “And if I hadn’t met Wo -” she paused. 

She looked into Wolfgang’s eyes then. His expression was unreadable, a rarity these days. There was a hesitation in the way his gaze darted between the phone in her hand and her eyes. He was _nervous_.

“If I hadn’t met someone else,” she amended, “I would have stayed with Rajan. But I’ve… I’ve found someone who made me happier.”

Maybe they could save Wolfgang’s name for when she brought him home. It didn’t seem a particularly good time to mention he was German. And… everything else about him, enough to drive her mom up the walls.

“And you love him?”

“I love him.”

“Can I meet him?” he asked. His voice was lower like he was afraid she’d say no. “When you can come home again… What if you bring him here?”

Another tear escaped, but this time she was smiling. “I - I don’t know if -”

Wolfgang nudged her on the shoulder gently, prompting her to look at him again. Slowly, he nodded, shutting his eyes like he was already regretting the decision.

“Actually, we’d like that,” she told her dad. “Very much.”

“Be safe, Kala.” Her dad sounded relieved. She imagined him smiling.

Kala breathed out slowly, feeling the weight of her guilt leave her chest, until only a small fraction remained, stubbornly clinging to her memory of the confession. “I will.” 

“Come home to us.”

*

Miki approached Sun after dinner and asked for sparring advice.

They cleared the space in the living room a little by moving furniture around, before starting their pretend-fight. Sun tried to throw the smaller woman down from multiple angles, to demonstrate all the possible ways she could be attacked. Miki was fairly fast on her limbs, enough that she’d dodged most of Sun’s attacks.

Sun could tell he wanted to say something as she adjusted the direction Miki was aiming her punches.

Sun pointed out how Miki could use her size to her advantage. Instead of always playing defense, occasionally she could aim for an unexpected, painful pressure point. That was what Sun did, anyway, whenever she found herself towered over by a much bigger opponent. And she had no doubt Miki had enough strength to do some real damage with her fists.

Detective Mun watched their simulated spar, slightly cocking his head to one side with interest. Nomi had talked Sun into cooking with him the day before. They’d made small talk. Of course, they had to, they couldn’t spend twenty minutes in complete silence. But maybe he took her friendliness as an invitation to talk. He’d been more or less following her all afternoon, questions lingering behind his close-lipped smiles. 

After Miki, who was finally satisfied after an hour of “badass fight training”, went upstairs to prepare for bed, Sun hoisted one end of the long coffee table and tried to bring it back to its original spot in front of the big couch. It was heavy, composed of a glass tabletop and stubby wooden legs with who knew what filling inside to make it harder to tip over. She welcomed the slight strain on her arms. It had been way too long since she’d found herself in a fight, and the muscles in her fingers ticked in anticipation of the next fight.

Only two days until King’s Cross was going to be attacked until they were going to confront Veronika and other _sapiens_ once and for all.

But someone else — Detective Mun — lifted the coffee table from the other end. It felt like a load had been lifted off her arms, though she was perfectly content doing it herself. 

Well… half a load. 

She glared at him but made a jerking motion with her elbow towards where the couch was. Together they placed the table back.

“You know, Miss Bak -” he started.

She opened her mouth to speak before she had a chance to monitor her tone. “I thought I told you to call me Sun.”

Despite the Blockers she was on, Sun imagined Lito visiting, wiggling a finger, complete with a disapproving tut of his tongue.

“ _Sun_ ,” the Detective amended casually, apparently unfazed by the unintentional sharpness of her tone. “You know, I always pictured you as a fighting-alone type.”

She shrugged and sat down on the carpeted ground, crossing her legs like she’d seen Genevieve do whenever it struck her fancy. “I can fight well when I’m alone.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He joined her on the carpet and crossed his legs too.

“Why do you say this, then?”

“Well, I guess I’ve just never seen you train someone before. You know, like just now with your… uhh, ally?”

Sun pursed her lips, conceding. Miki was technically her host, but with all of them moving around, preparing the invasion together, she felt more like an ally than anything prior. “Of course I would give my friend tips on fighting. We are marching into the same fight. Contrary to your belief, Detective, I am not always alone.”

_At least, not anymore._

“Is this what you’ve always done? Have you always helped your - your sensate friends fight their battles?”

Strictly speaking, physical confrontations weren’t the only fighting they did. But she did find her consciousness yanked from her physical body whenever a member of her cluster was facing an immediate threat. Not that she minded, of course. She didn’t want any of them in danger.

But then, they returned the favor in their own ways. 

“I am an experienced fighter,” she told him. “But they give me advice on other things.”

“What, like dating advice?”

Sun froze and stared at him without blinking.

“Is that why your hacker friend set us up to cook together?” he continued.

She suppressed a groan. Of course he’d seen right through it. Nomi could be annoyingly convincing when it came to advice about how to make sense of her feelings, but she’d never denied her true intentions when Sun, or someone else, called her out for meddling. _Unlike Lito,_ said an amused voice in the back of her head that sounded like her own.

“Nomi is convinced we make a great couple,” Sun confessed. 

She wanted to add something about how the notion of her dating the Detective was ridiculous, but before the words could leave her mouth, something made her pause. There wasn’t an exact _reason_ she could think of. But she wasn’t going to end up dating a guy whose mission was to catch her and bring her back to Korea. No way.

In her mind, Lito raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

Like he could see what she was picturing in her mind, Mun’s smirk widened too. “I don’t know about dating, but I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

 _Cheeky_. She glared. 

“Of course, I’ll have to get to know you first,” he continued. “You’re not the woman I thought you were.”

“Of course not.” She was surprised that her tone softened a bit. She thought she’d be offended that his perception of her was inaccurate, but apparently not. “You know me from police records. That is hardly an accurate representation.”

“That’s fair. But I do know you’ve gotten into a lot of fights back in school.”

Somehow, she felt smug upon realizing the Detective had gone through her school records. “If others chose to anger me, that is their mistake.”

“I bet none of them tried it a second time.”

“No,” she confirmed.

Mun chuckled. “That’s wise of them.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is -” he paused there, most likely on purpose, and scratched the back of his head, the cheeky grin back on his face as she rolled her eyes, annoyed - “I may not know you like your friends, umm, I mean, your -”

“My cluster?”

“Your cluster. I don’t know what they know about you. But from what I can tell, you’re not who the media says you were.”

“They took my brother’s words.”

“That’s their mistake, isn’t it? They haven’t tried to hear both sides of the story.”

“Nothing about my case is fair, Mun.”

“I want to make it up to you.”

“It is not your duty to make up for the failure of the system.” She snapped. 

But she remembered what he said about Chun-Hei, another woman who the system had failed. He wasn’t like other cops. It wasn’t entirely fair for her to judge him based on a title, either. Detective Mun wasn’t just a police officer. He was…

Trying to help.

“If you want to make it up to me, help us in the battle.”

“Already on it.”

“And you would keep this a secret?”

“Can’t have my Lieutenant knowing I was part of an invasion, now, can I?”

His cheekiness reminded Sun of Lito. She didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing, that his words, like Lito’s, made her want to smile. _And_ punch him in the shoulder.

“Thank you for your help,” she said. 

“Your friends mean a lot to you. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

Who got hurt or not wasn’t up to him. But she appreciated the sentiment, more than she wanted to admit.

“They are family,” she found herself confessing. And while the old Sun would have kicked herself for telling the truth to a person she has barely talked to, she couldn’t find it in her to be mad. What did it mean, that she didn’t mind him knowing? 

“I get it,” he said. “They care about you. You know, your hacker friend Nomi cornered me the first day and filled me in on all this, and she made me promise not to arrest you before you’re ready to leave.”

That sounded like Nomi. 

“Why did you agree to the promise?”

“Because it’s obviously important to you. Plus, the woman you’re all up against? The one who gave me the address? She doesn’t sound like someone I can arrest.”

It wasn’t like BPO could be arrested. They operated under the guise of some kind of non-profit organization. The evidence they were going to collect could make or break the game for all the sensates in the world. No pressure.

Sun could barely remember the days when the outcome of her fights affected her, and her alone. It happened in another lifetime. In a lifetime without her cluster.

“Veronika thinks she operates outside the law,” Sun agreed.

“Well, if she does, maybe it’s better for us to put a stop to her plans outside the law too?”

She liked his reasoning. And she had to admit, she was wrong about him. She had suspected it before, but now it was so obvious, she wondered why she didn’t admit it to herself before: He wasn’t all procedures and empty promises. Occasionally he made decisions that defied all orders. And logic. And common sense. Stupid, impulsive decisions.

Not that she minded. Though, she would much prefer if he didn’t come so close to dying from them.

“If you’re going to help us, we can keep your involvement a secret. But only if you keep our secret in return.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to get your friends in trouble.”

“If you do, you will regret helping me out of prison.”

A grin. “Is that so?”

“I have beat you before, Kwon-Ho. I can do it again.”

“What did you just call me?”

There were swear words in eight languages Sun wanted to blurt out, but she would never lose it in front of him. He had known enough of her secrets as it were, and this was no time to create new tease-worthy material. So she settled for a glare.

“Isn’t that your name?” She asked, daring him to say anything else in return.

“It is,” he put on his best innocent voice. “But was beginning to think you didn’t know it.”

She crossed her arms. “I know it.”

*

An argument escalated from a conversation about disguises.

Lito, to Hernando’s shock, was convinced he’d be the ideal distraction. While some members of their allies had planned sneak from the staff entrance at the back of the BPO facility while others would busy themselves by stopping the King’s Cross attack, he had pointed out that _strategically speaking_ (the word brought a bitter taste to Hernando’s mouth, like he could tell it’d be bad news for his partner), he should saunter up to the security desk at the front door and demand to speak to Veronika.

The fact that Lito was going to put himself anywhere near BPO security after Beijing didn’t sit well with Hernando.

“Baby, we said we’d all go in through the back and put on disguises,” he pointed out, as calmly as he could.

“ _Some of us_ are,” Lito insisted. “But not me. No. I have to be the distraction. Traveling in one group would make us a target.”

“But Bug -” he tried again.

“Will be busy fighting with the BPO hackers for control!”

“He’ll cut out security -”

“We need to divert some of the guards out of their way anyway!”

Hernando crossed his arms and stepped closer, blocking Lito on his way to the kitchen. “You’re not going,” he said simply, surprised at the firmness in his voice.

“I’m not _going_?” Lito tried to push past, but Hernando wasn’t having it. “Hernando, we’re _all_ going. And _I’m_ going to be the diversion. Me. Just me.”

“Diversion?” he asked, incredulous, raising his voice. “ _Diversion_? The moment they see you they’ll kill you — _they’ll shoot you on the spot_!”

“They’d try to kill any of us on the spot if they see us,” Kala pointed out, having apparently been drawn out of the lab by the sound of their argument.

“But he’s going alone!” Hernando turned to her.

“I can go with him,” Kala offered, her eyes softening. Hernando must have looked scared. He _was_ scared. “I can set off a lava grenade at the security -”

“ _No_.” Wolfgang cut in. None of them seemed to have realized he’d been listening in. Kala frowned at the sharp tone of his voice, and turned to him, ready to argue when -

“Oh _stop it_ , all of you!”

Hernando turned to the source of the shouting behind him. It was Gina, with her hands on her hips and a look in her dark brown eyes that would have rooted Hernando to the spot, had he not been shaking. Behind her stood Mr Hoy ( _Allistair_ , he recalled rather unhelpfully given the timing) and Henrik, who had presumably heard their argument too.

In the kitchen, the tap stopped running, and Hernando heard the clink of a plate being stacked onto the rack — Kristy and María had paused in the middle of doing the dishes.

“You lot are _not_ having this argument on your last night in Paris,” said Gina, more calmly now, but with enough authority to make Hernando nod his head before he’d even processed what she’d said, no matter how many years most of them had on the younger ally.

It was Lito who spoke first. “We’re sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. The others, including Hernando, followed, uttering similar words of apology. 

“Good.” Gina tutted her tongue.

Hernando was reminded of the way Estella Rodríguez had reacted when Lito had said he’d expected her to reject him after his coming-out. ( _Nonsense_ , she’d muttered, pulling away from the hug. Then she’d pointed out she was ashamed Lito would even think she was capable of such unfair hate, and Lito had smiled sheepishly, hiding a sniffle.)

“We did say we’ll leave the strategizing for when we all get to London,” Kala reminded them, trying to mediate the tension.

“Seems like a better idea than video calls.” María emerged from the kitchen.

So, what now?

From the way everyone looked at each other, Hernando could tell he wasn’t the only one wondering. After frowning for a second, Gina left the living room and ran upstairs. Was she angry at them for snapping? Hernando thought he ought to go after her, maybe offer an additional apology for starting this whole argument.

But before he could make a move to do so, she was already coming downstairs again. She re-emerged with a triumphant look on her face and some kind of plastic case in her hand, which she waved, before making her way to the wii console underneath the TV. They followed her and jumped when the background music of Mario Kart blasted through the speakers, too familiar after they’d spent their days listening to Damien and Leon playing the same game in a room upstairs.

Gina tossed a few cushions onto the carpeted floor in front of the coffee stand, and took out all the remotes from a drawer nearby, testing the battery on each one. “ _Sit_ ,” she ordered as she made her way to the couch behind it all.

“ _Jaobaan_ , are you sure?” asked Henrik, raising an eyebrow.

Gina shot him a glare that deterred everyone else from asking questions, too.

The first round was completed relatively quickly, as they’d chosen an easy track in the Mushroom Cup — Water Park — to teach Kala the basics. By halfway through that game, Hernando could tell Lito was regretting underestimating his cluster-mate. And by the time she emerged victorious, followed by Henrik, Lito was uttering a string of Spanish curses with a vehemence that would have made Felix proud.

Kala was a quick study, and she’d gotten far ahead, despite Wolfgang’s endless attempts at distractions. Wolfgang, like Hernando and Gina, had opted to watch instead of play. He’d sat on the ground and pulled Kala into his lap so he could hold her and watch her play with his body as the makeshift love seat, and nuzzled her on the shoulder every few seconds. But she was fully intent on beating the three more experienced players and didn’t even seem to notice, to Wolfgang's dismay.

“I won,” Kala said smugly, stopping Lito and María in the middle of their argument on who came last, or if it was _really_ a tie (they doubted it).

“What?!” Lito stared at the screen, incredulous. “What?! How?”

“Congrats,” said Wolfgang, pecking her on the cheek.

“Video games are easier than I imagined,” Kala declared. Then she kissed him back on the lips and bopped the tips of their noses together with a smile before she drew back.

Hernando pondered what she said. “It’s reliant on strategic thinking. Especially multiplayer games. You have to anticipate the others’ strategies as well as your own.”

“Oh God!” An exasperated Gina looked at Hernando. “Don’t encourage them.”

Henrik turned back to Gina with that innocent smirk that, in Hernando’s observation, proved to be an effective means of persuasion every time. “Come on. One more round?” he pleaded, nodding at the TV. “I promise I’ll win?”

She sighed but didn’t say anything in protest. Henrik inched forward, remote in hand, and restarted the game, bouncing a little in his seat like a boy. He selected Yoshi as his character and moved to sit cross-legged in front of the coffee table so he could be closer to the TV. Lito and María, who had apparently decided to team up and take on Kala two-on-one, picked Mario, the character Kala used last time.

“I’ll win no matter who I play as,” Kala insisted, selecting Luigi. 

“Can you win on Thwomp Ruins?” Henrik challenged.

“Is that a harder track? Bring it.”

On the couch by Hernando’s side, Gina buried her face in her hands. “See? This is why I put it in Damien’s room for safekeeping.”

Hernando chuckled. “I’ve seen Lito scream at the TV in the middle of a Disney marathon.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Gina replied dryly. 

But from the way Gina tried to hide her smile, Hernando knew she didn’t regret bringing out the competitive instinct that seemed to have launched Henrik, María, Lito, and Kala into a full-on bickering war. They smashed the buttons on their remotes, trying to get ahead, all tensions of their recent argument temporarily forgotten. Once or twice, the remotes almost flew out of their hands. 

“Someone’s going to get hurt if they keep going like that.” Hernando nodded at the remotes in their hands.

“Oh, someone did,” Gina told him. “Well, some _thing_. You know we had to replace that TV screen three times? No thanks to him.” She looked at Henrik.

Lito, following María’s direction, rammed into Kala’s vehicle at full speed, and let out a victorious whoop.

“I believe you,” Hernando told Gina, hiding his own chuckle. Who would have thought Henrik, the mild-mannered father-esque figure by day, was capable of gamer’s rage?

The man in question turned back and smirked. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily.” 

“Pity.” Gina rolled her eye, hiding a smile.

But then, there was a hidden facet to everyone that resurfaced in time, and sharing a house seemed to draw that out of people faster than was expected. If Hernando had only ever seen Kala in the lab, he wouldn’t have thought of her capable of aggression. Fortunately, Lito had spent half their plane ride to London talking about a chemist who could build impromptu bombs out of kitchen supplies and take out a dozen armed guards. Hernando and Dani were simply in too much confusion (Lito? Connected to strangers _in his mind_?) to pay attention.

Then he’d witnessed Kala in the middle of explaining the damage of her lava grenade two days ago with Mr Allistair Hoy. She’d grinned wildly as she pointed out that, once the grenade was tossed, the broken glass from the tube could very well kill someone, if not the chemicals themselves. And _that_ , Hernando could never forget.

“No, no, no!” Kala bounced up in Wolfgang’s lap, and Wolfgang had to push her down by the shoulder to stop her from leaping out of this DIY love seat altogether. “These banana peels! Get out of the way! _Out of the way!_ ”

“Tough luck!” María teased. Now that she was in charge of the remote, Lito was pointing at the screen, guiding her around various boulders without being hit.

After getting herself out of a particularly tricky turn, Kala had successfully navigated through the next bit of the terrain and got herself back in the lead. 

Kala blurted out something in Hindi that made Lito gasp in dramatic shock, despite the Blocker he was on. Hernando still wasn’t used to the language-switching thing — in the past, he had never had any reason to associate Lito with _Hindi_ — but he could deduce Lito had memorized the phrase as something insulting. Judging by the way Wolfgang raised his eyebrow, clearly impressed, it had to be some kind of trash talk.

“I have a theory about why they’re behaving like this,” Hernando whispered to Gina.

“Oh?”

“Our presence makes them extra competitive.”

Gina snorted. “Seems like it. But if you’ve seen Henrik play alone? It’s not much better.”

Henrik’s vehicle veered off track and fell from the sky at a particularly sharp turn. He threw the remote on the carpeted ground, grunting like a frustrated child. Speak of the devil.

Hernando hummed, amused. “Point taken.”

“’Least he didn’t toss it at the screen this time.” Gina sighed, with all the exasperation of a fed-up, overworked parent.

“I wouldn’t jinx it if I were you,” said Hernando.

They exchanged a _look_ before turning their attention to the hyperactive people sitting on the carpet. Wolfgang was still doing his best to hold Kala down lest she launched herself straight at the TV and demanded her cart to go faster. Gina muttered something about how the game was an (over-)effective means of stress relief. And it was — the argument seemed like a lifetime ago, and really, arguing over how much danger they were putting themselves in wasn’t helping.

Hernando knew, no matter how the invasion plan worked out, that there was no way they could foresee every scenario and avoid all confrontations. The thought of Lito wrapped up in all this made his stomach churn. But then, he and Dani weren’t going to be left behind this time, either. 

He was grateful that despite everything, Lito and the others still found it in themselves to argue over a video game. Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe, after all the confrontations they’d braved through, most of which Hernando wasn’t even aware of two months ago, they trusted one another to get themselves out of a near-death situation every time.

“Mario Kart Nights are gonna get a lot worse after this war,” said Gina, trying to sound optimistic herself. But she hadn’t been directly in BPO’s line of fire for a long time, and there was an uneasiness in the way her teasing smile stopped short before her eyes.

“I have faith this won’t be their last game,” said Hernando, with all the faith he could muster, hoping his voice sounded calm enough to be convincing. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Don’t mention it.” Then, after a pause, “Honestly? I don’t want to imagine how much worse their next game will be once everyone’s back.”

That made Hernando crack a smile for real. “Oh yeah. Dani’s a vicious gamer. And Felix, well -” Hernando cringed. He imagined Felix, ever the catalyst for trouble, would be encouraging to Dani in all the most destructive ways, and everyone would come to regret having another game night.

“I’ll take your word on it,” said Gina.

Lito passed the remote to María and made his way to the kitchen, shuffling in a victorious moon-walk sort of dance. But their game wasn’t over yet, and Hernando silently cheered Lito on — if he didn’t win this round either, he’d whine for hours, and Hernando wouldn’t get the peaceful night’s sleep he desperately needed.

Because Hernando knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep well once they all arrived in London the night before the King’s Cross attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary** :  
> * _Ma chérie_ = “My darling”  
>  ** Translation: “Say ‘okay’,” she told Amélie. “And shake hands.”
> 
> Once again, this is all done thanks to Mr Google, so if any of you know French and realize this is embarrassingly wrong, I would be very happy if you tell me!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Did you miss me?
> 
> Sorry for disappearing for two weeks. Anxiety was kicking my ass, as was life in general, but I've gotten myself through the first hurdle so I'll be good for a while. Also, my brain's trying to convince me that there's a lot of fun stuff I can do besides writing, so it's been hard to pull myself out from procrastination. But I did that today. And I finished this chapter. Yay!
> 
> As you can probably guess, action will pick up NEXT CHAPTER. I'm half done with the super action-y chapters (33-36, basically). I need to finish a draft of chapters 35 and 36 and get that beta'd, and then there's all that annoying editing crap (UGHHHH I KNOW), so it could be a while before I update again, possibly another two weeks. So yeah, I hope the feels in this chapter can keep you going for a while <3 Till next time!
> 
> \- Love, Sas (Nightjar_Patronus)


	33. I push all of it into my fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one can catch a fucking break.
> 
> “I take everything I'm feeling, everything that matters to me... I push all of it into my fist, and I fight for it.”  
> — From S1E11, “Just Turn the Wheel and the Future Changes”

******August 7, 2017**

 **_6:13 PM, London, St Pancras Station_ ** _(Riley, Will, Mavis, Kiira, Genevieve, Leon)_

The train pulled into St Pancras station with a cringe-inducing screech. The doors opened as soon as the train stopped, exposing Riley and all her allies from the Oslo safe house to the city where their war against BPO begun. 

Riley knew their allies from the Manchester safe house were waiting for them by the gate in disguises. Kala and the others who were in Paris would arrive the next day with the new anti-Blocker serums, giving them one additional advantage against their _sapien_ and sensate enemies. As she and the others hauled their bags from underneath their seats and made for the doors, Puck appeared in front of her, out of thin air.

“We’re out of time,” he said, rushed and uncharacteristically scared.

Riley frowned and shook her head, signaling the others to stop. “Puck, I thought our plan -”

“Wait, Puck’s here?” Mavis asked. 

Unlike Will and Sun, who had let their last dose wear off a few minutes prior in case they needed to contact someone from the Archipelago, Mavis had injected herself with a Blocker in case BPO was searching. Someone always was, she’d insisted, and her connection to people on the other side of the war was not going to make things easy.

“Soldier attack in King’s Cross,” said Puck. “Right now.”

“Shit!” Will ran out of the train, heading straight for the escalators. “Shit!”

Puck disappeared after a panicked look. Riley heard him wish them _good luck_ in his head. Mavis and Kiira followed Will up the escalator, squeezing past the confused crowd as they sprinted their ways up the steps. Riley, Genevieve, and Leon followed with all their bags in tow, careful not to trip over. 

They met their Manchester safe house allies by the front door to the station and explained the situation, shouting over each other. Dani, Felix, and Miki ran outside and came back a minute later, confirming that, yes, a crowd had gathered at King’s Cross Station across the street, reporters and desperate commuters alike.

“And the doors -” Miki added as she caught her breath, “they’re - they’re locked. _Locked_. Apparently. No one could get in as far as we could see.”

Amanita was shouting at someone over the phone, and it was only when Riley heard “please hurry” and “we need to stop them _now_ ” that she realized Amanita was talking to Kala and the others down in Paris. But the Eurostar would take two and a half hours to reach London, Riley knew. By then, the Headhunters in control of the attack at the BPO facility would have been gone, their _sapien_ supervisors — including Veronika — along with them.

They needed a faster way to get here. But Riley couldn’t bring herself to think about _how_ given what was happening in King’s Cross right now.

Nomi knelt on the floor and thrown open her laptop. She initiated about a dozen applications at once, the windows popping up on the screen faster than Riley’s eyes could register. Then she hooked a Bluetooth communication device from her bag to her ear and passed one to Will. 

The devices were pre-programmed to connect with the other devices they had on hand. Dani and Sun had already gotten theirs on their way down south from Manchester. As Will tested his earpiece, the other three were talking over each other as they tried to explain to Bug what was happening.

A few seconds later, Will confirmed he could hear Bug too. Will leaned closer to Riley, pressing his ear against hers so she could hear, too. 

“Camera’s on. Six Bolger shooters in the station. Everyone’s locked in,” said Bug. 

“Bug, can you get the door open?” asked Nomi. “I have the equipment, but there’s no place here for me to hook them up -”

“I got this,” Bug reassured. Still, everyone tensed when they heard Bug’s panicked breathing over the device, followed by a string of curse words, and what sounded like a foot kicking against the wall. “Shit, no -”

“Is there anything I can -” Nomi offered, but Bug cut her off.

“No, I got it. Almost. Head over now. I’ll get it open by the time you get across the street.”

The doors were still bolted down by the time they got to King’s Cross. Everyone huddled against the wall in a panic, bracing themselves against the panicked passerby rushing back and forth. 

“ _Fuck_. Now what?” asked Felix. He stood on tip-toe to watch the door nearest to them in case it opened.

“There’s gotta be Headhunters and _sapiens_ at BPO, right?” Amanita suggested. “So -”

“We have to split,” Will finished for her. “Any of you got cash?”

Kiira pulled out her wallet with a nod. “There’s a car rental not far from here.”

“We’ll head over to BPO,” Leon volunteered, Genevieve and Miki nodding alongside him. 

Mun turned to Sun. “We’ll stay.”

“Nomi, Amanita, you two okay with going to BPO?” asked Will. “Better if you keep an eye on things from inside the car.”

They nodded and followed Kiira and the other two, just as people poured out the only door Bug had managed to open. Will and Riley tried to push their ways in, but the crowd was too much, and they braced themselves against the wall to avoid a stampede, waiting for an opening to run in and tackle the Bolgers.

“Felix and I can help!” Dani shouted over the sound of people screaming.

Mavis looked at Sun and Mun, then at Will, who was pushing his way forward. “Six Bolgers inside! I think we got this! Go with the others!”

“What floor’s the control rooms again?” asked Dani.

“Lower level two!” Mavis reminded them. “Be careful!”

Following Will, Sun, and Mun, Riley tugged Mavis through an opening. The fleeing crowd was thinning. Riley’s heart clenched as she registered what it must have meant. She and Mavis guided the others through the circular ways around the outer edge of the station, ears tuned to the sound of gunshots coming from the center where the giant timetable and the souvenir shops were.

And came face to face with a Bolger.

*

 **_6:15 PM, Paris Safe House_ ** _(Henrik, Lito, Hernando, María)_

In the Paris safe house, everyone packed their bags in a hurry, stuffing them with syringes from the lab, and Kala’s lava grenades, and all the guns out of the safe, which they loaded.

Lito didn’t have time to count how many anti-Blocker syringes he picked up before he was out the door with his family and cluster and allies. Maybe half a dozen? Those syringes were capped with rubber to distinguish them from the plastic covers on the others. He reminded himself where he kept them in case of an emergency. 

No. This was _already_ an emergency, and Riley and Nomi and everyone else who was already in London didn’t even have _guns_ , not to mention Blockers and the antidote. Fuck.

“I don’ think I’ll be much help with the combat, lassie.” Mr. Hoy’s voice pulled Lito from his thoughts. Next to him, Kristy nodded.

Kala turned around. “Okay. Umm, Puck, keep them safe.”

Puck nodded. “You sure you don’t need me to -”

“We have Wolfgang. I think we’ll be fine,” María chipped in. She grabbed Lito’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before she all but towed him forward. “And I think it’s best if you hide out someplace else. For all we know, Jonas could’ve confessed.”

Puck nodded. “I’ll find somewhere.”

“We’re taking a train?” asked Hernando. He was nervously clutching Lito’s other hand as they said one last goodbye to the allies they left behind. 

“Can we even get there in time?” Henrik added, seconding his worry.

Wolfgang and Kala caught up with them. “There’s no other choice,” said Wolfgang. “That’s our only way to get to London -”

They rounded the street corner and froze, standing stiffly as they were confronted with some of the last people Lito had expected to see. Lila and her cluster-mates were standing in front of them, blocking their way on the sidewalk. They had raised their guns and aimed them at Wolfgang and Kala.

Lito’s first instinct was to push his allies out of the way of the gunfire, but something about Lila’s expressions gave him a pause. She wasn’t looking at her gun. Neither was her cluster-mate, that assassin woman ( _Marcela_ , he recalled). Their eyes were trained on Wolfgang, studying his expressions. That didn’t look like someone who was aiming for the kill.

“Get out of the way,” Wolfgang growled.

Lito reached forward and grabbed the back of Wolfgang’s jacket before he could plant his fist in Lila’s face. Before Wolfgang could say anything, Lito gave him a meaningful tick of the eyebrow, and he nodded. 

“It’s hard to believe you’ve come in peace if you’re aiming at our heads,” said Lito, nodding at the raised gun in Lila’s hand. 

Lila rolled her eyes and lowered the weapon. Her cluster-mates, the two men, and Marcela did the same. “Who said we came in peace?”

“You would have shot us already if you didn’t,” Lito pointed out, fully at ease. “And if you _are_ here to kill us, I think you’ll find yourselves greatly outnumbered.”

Hernando’s hand was shaking under his clutch. He gave it a squeeze. _Trust me._

“You’re right. I’m not here to kill you.” Lila cut to the chase. “I’m going to help you.”

Wolfgang scoffed. 

Lila exchanged a questioning look with her assassin cluster-mate, who nodded for her to go on. “You won’t find Veronika at BPO during the attack. She never monitors them from there. Her office is in another building.”

Kala crossed her arms. “And you know this how?”

“We have our ways.” Lila looked smug. Too smug. The face of a person who had come here to gloat. “We tapped something of hers with a bug. We heard her plan. And we know she’s close to finding you. She narrowed her search to Paris.”

Lito reminded himself to be calm. “So why are you here?”

“Veronika isn’t going to invade Paris,” said Lila. “I heard she’s expecting all of you at BPO. She knows you’ll be there when her Headhunters are controlling her soldiers. But she wouldn’t expect you to know where to find her.”

“You’re here to take us to her?” María walked forward. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

“You could take the train and hope you get there in time,” Marcela pointed out. “Believe me, if we could have done this without a _collaboration_ , we would have. But I believe in this case we have a common enemy.”

It didn’t look like she was lying. She looked Lito in the eye without the extra intensity he’d usually associate with “trying too hard to sound truthful," and her posture was natural. As natural as could be, he would imagine, for an assassin with a weapon in hand. 

“She’d be gone by the time we got there,” said Wolfgang, turning his glare to Marcela. She’d been the one who hurt Kala. Lito knew he was itching to make her pay.

Lila laughed. “Surely you don’t think King’s Cross would be the only attack?”

What?

In their shared mind, Lito felt something akin to shock from Riley’s end, followed by a twinge of concern from Will. _We can’t trust them,_ Will thought, matter-of-factly.

Lito turned to María, hoping her spy training had prepared her for a situation like this. “What do you think?”

María looked at Lila, her eyes challenging. “Unless you’ve got a helicopter, I don’t know how you can help.”

At that, one of the men — the one with pale skin and platinum hair — let out a dry laugh. “We have two,” he said, his accent unrecognizable.

María snorted. “How convenient.”

“It’s not far,” said the other man, the Japanese man who attacked Will and Henrik during their last run-in. “Five minutes away.”

Lito turned to Wolfgang, who shrugged, though the animosity was still evident in his eyes. They did need a way to get to London faster. And clearly, since there were only four of them, Lila’s cluster needed _them_.

 _Clearly_ , thought Sun in London, preparing for a fight with Will and the others.

 _Fine. Either way, at least you’ll be in London,_ Will added. _But don’t let them off the hook so easily._

Lito smirked. “Lower your weapons. Maybe we’ll follow.”

Lila looked at him, incredulous.

“You need us.” Kala caught on. Her voice wasn’t trembling in the slightest as she exchanged a look with Wolfgang. “And we need to move. We’re running out of time. You’re not in a place to make all the demands.”

In a less intense situation, Lito would have been proud. “We can both make demands,” Lito added. “One of ours, one of yours.”

Marcela crossed her arms, the gun still in hand. “Fine. What’s yours?”

“You’ll never point your weapons at any of us. _Ever_ ,” said Wolfgang.

They lowered their weapons and headed down the road, expecting them to follow. Lito and his allies walked briskly, never losing sight of them. Five minutes later, it was certain Lila’s cluster-mates hadn’t lied: there were two black helicopters parked on the field, along with a couple red Ferraris that probably belonged to the other vacation-goers in this neighborhood. The helicopters were large enough to encompass all nine of his friends and the four of them. 

“Our turn to make a demand,” said Lila, marching towards one helicopter with Marcela. Immediately, Wolfgang and Kala followed. After exchanging a look with Lito, Capheus followed, too. “Blockers. For all of us.”

Capheus frowned. “But -”

“I think it’s for the best,” Lito agreed, looking at their less than trustworthy enemies-turned-collaborators. “We don’t know who their contacts are.”

Will thought something in the affirmative in their minds before he drew away. Lito felt him running, and knew the doors to King’s Cross must have been opened. He wished Will and the others good luck.

“Fine,” Lito and Wolfgang said simultaneously.

Another minute or two later, a now-Blocked Lito found himself in a helicopter with the two men from Lila’s cluster, along with María, Hernando, and Henrik. It was difficult for Henrik to be separate from Gina, who went to Lila’s helicopter with Capheus and the others. But now was hardly the time to argue with practicality — they had to go with whatever skill distribution the thought would work best.

And while Kala’s group headed for Veronika’s office, the rest of them decided to help out the others in BPO. If Lila was telling the truth, and there was more than one attack that night, they wanted to trace them down right from the source.

“I’ve been to the London facility. There’s plenty of space on the rooftop," said María as the helicopter took off. “We can go down the stairs from there.”

“You weren’t always stationed in Beijing?” asked Hernando.

“Nah. I behave myself,” said María. “They send their best guards all around the world.”

The moment they were up in the air, the moment the houses grew smaller and smaller in Lito’s view, the reality of the situation hit him once more. They were putting their lives at stake, traveling to London in a helicopter driven by Lila’s cluster. And Will and the others were going to intervene in a terrorist attack with six Bolgers, and Nomi’s half of the team was already, likely, at the Parliament facility, scanning the place for Headhunters and _sapiens_. 

Nothing, _nothing,_ was going according to plan. The argument Lito had with Hernando last night seemed painfully ridiculous in retrospect: so much for Lito leading the BPO infiltration. Even by helicopter, it would take an hour and forty minutes to reach London.

But there was nothing they could do, and Lito trusted his cluster when it came to fighting. They had held their own against BPO before, and they could do it again. And their element of surprise, belated as it would be, was still there. No one would expect more of the August 8th cluster and allies to drop out of the sky. 

Would they?

*

 **_6:17 PM, London, King’s Cross Station_ ** _(Mun, Sun, Will, Riley, Mavis)_

Detective Kwon-Ho Mun tackled the soldier — the _Bolger_ , as Sun called him — before the man could pull the trigger. They wrestled on the ground until the Detective was kneeling on top of the Bolger, propping his elbow against the man’s chest to keep him from getting up. He grabbed the Bolger by his wrist and pulled the gun away in case it fired. Which it did. Thankfully, the first shot bounced against the wall. 

On instinct, Kwon-Ho twisted the Bolger’s arm until he heard a snap, then shot the Bolger clean between the eyes.

“Impressive,” said Sun, pulling him up from the ground.

He cringed, turning away from the body.

A few panicked citizens ran past them, screaming as they stumbled upon the detective and Sun with guns in their hands and the limp bodies of the unfortunate commuters strewn across the ground, blood soaking through blouses and suits. And Sun was still here, looking at him, a puzzled expression behind her eyes. Everyone else was nowhere to be seen. 

They were pursuing their own targets, he told himself. That was all. That had to be all. They were fine.

Kwon-Ho opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t find words. So he got up and followed Sun, running towards the sound of gunshots from around the corner. They came across Will, who was wrestling with another Bolger, a wide-shouldered muscular man who currently got him cornered. Sun rushed over to help, and within seconds he was shot dead, his weapon snatched from his hand.

Then they heard Riley scream.

A Bolger had her pinned against the bench in the center of the area, now cleared of all other citizens except those who were lying unmoving in pools of blood — at least a dozen of them. Kwon-Ho swallowed and turned his gaze away from them as he rushed towards Riley. Before he could reach her, Mavis came from the other direction and pulled something from an inside pocket of her boot. A switchblade.

She jammed the blade into the Bolger’s temple, and blood sprayed onto both women. Riley’s hands were shaking as she took the gun from her now-dead attacker. But she bit her bottom lip, aimed it at her left, and fired. A Bolger crumpled to the ground. Will ran to the Bolger and shot them again in the head for good measure before he picked up their gun.

Then Kwon-Ho found himself lifted from the ground, a gun pressed to the side of his temple. Sun had told him Bolgers couldn’t speak, but the message appeared clear enough: in his momentary distraction, he’d been taken hostage. His allies could drop the weapons they’d picked up, or let him get shot.

Will dropped his stolen guns and raised his hands in surrender. Mavis laid the switchblade on the ground next to her feet, along with another gun she must’ve taken from another Bolger. Riley laid down her gun, too, and stood.

But where was -

The Bolger let go of Kwon-Ho and dropped to the ground, dead from a bullet wound in the back of her head. The Detective turned and saw Sun behind him, a death glare in her eyes as she looked at her latest kill.

“Thanks,” Kwon-Ho muttered.

The others picked up their stolen weapons again, and Mavis wiped her blade on a Bolger’s shirt before tucking it back into her boot.

“This is what will become of us if BPO catches us,” Sun explained with a meaningful look.

Kwon-Ho nodded. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Sun shrugged and waved for him to follow everyone else as they walked through the one exit Bug had managed to open. They made space for the paramedics rushing in to treat the injured citizens. No one stopped them. Perhaps they’d assumed the five of them were survivors of the shooting.

Two police cars rounded the corner. Will swore and gestured for them to press their backs against the side of an ambulance, out of sight. Mavis craned her neck over the front of the ambulance, then turned back and whispered something to Will, who nodded.

“What is the plan?” asked Sun.

“Police are entering the station,” said Riley, peeking over from the back of the ambulance.

“Exactly,” said Mavis. “They left their cars behind.”

They ran over to the police car nearest to them, under the cover of three more ambulances and a bustling crowd of people holding up their smartphones, and climbed inside. Will sat in the driver’s seat for a few moments before he perked up, reached into a compartment underneath the wheel, and pulled out — were those wires? Connected to the engine?

Will tapped two wires against each other until the ignition thrummed. Then he stepped on the pedal, and their car veered off the sidewalk without a fuss. They sped down the street over a flickering green light that threatened to turn red, out of sight as everyone else in the area busied themselves with the aftermath of the King’s Cross attack. 

In the back, the detective turned to Sun, open-mouthed as he looked between her and Will, who was driving the vehicle without a key.

“One of our cluster helped,” she explained.

“Is your cluster-mate car thief?” 

“He used to be a matatu driver.” 

What? “Oh.”

She patted his shoulder, giving him a look of — was it reassurance? He hadn’t seen this from her before, but it made his cheeks warm up, just a little. Thankfully it was dark in the car. “You did well.”

“I almost got us killed.” He looked uneasily at the splatter of Bolger blood on his shirt.

“We all make mistakes,” Sun said calmly. “But it is best if you learn quickly.”

Kwon-Ho didn’t want to know why.

“I suspect this will not be the only bloodshed tonight,” she answered. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Sun could read _his_ thoughts, too.

*

 **_6:24 PM, from Paris to London_ ** _(Kala, Wolfgang, Gina, Capheus, Lila, Marcela)_

There were many ways Kala could make Lila pay for what she had done to Wolfgang, all of them equally tempting. Though right now they were hovering in the air on their way to London, waiting to confront what Kala presumed was a common enemy. After all, there was no way Lila would have asked them for help unless it was a last resort. 

The prospect of being Lila’s last resort would have annoyed Kala, if it weren’t for the fact that Lila was _their_ last resort, too. By moving the attack date ahead of schedule, (something Kala now suspected Veronika had planned all along) that bitch had played them like fools. It didn’t help that her cluster’s previous victories against BPO had made them overly confident. They had learned from their own mistakes; why didn’t they suspect Veronika would do the same?

But now was not the time to dwell the flaws when their entire plan had fallen into disarray.

She snuggled closer to Wolfgang — as closely as she could, with the seat belt around her waist and shoulder — and looked at him. He reciprocated with a look of concern, eyes darting between her and Lila. The Neapolitan sat in the front seat next to Marcela, who was driving the helicopter.

On Blockers, they would have to speak out loud. But with untrustworthy allies around, Kala thought it best if she abstained from it. She reached for his hand and squeezed, giving him a smile when he ducked down to peck her on the forehead.

“So you said Veronika has more attacks planned.” Kala straightened and addressed Lila, keeping her tone professionally detached, “Do you know where they’ll be?”

Lila turned around and smirked. It was almost like she could tell Kala wanted to punch her, which only exacerbated the mutual hate. “If I told you everything, there’s no reason to keep me around, now, is there?”

It took all of Kala’s self-control not to snap, and Wolfgang’s glare did nothing to help the matter. Most likely, Kala concluded, Lila didn’t know all the details either; she was biding her time in case they decided to turn their guns on her and finish her off. After all, no one in the Archipelago was aware of more attack being planned, and they had informants from the very heart of the organization.

“How did you put a bug on Veronika without her notice?” Capheus asked before Kala could give in to her temptations and punch the bitch.

Lila smirked. “Magic.”

The one word Kala didn’t expect to hear from Lila was _magic_. She was all manipulation and cold-blooded murder, as far as Kala was concerned. 

Kala didn’t expect Lila’s cluster to plant a bug on Veronika. Lila didn’t seem the type to spy unless she had no other ways. Were they as trapped as Kala and her own cluster were? 

 _And why,_ added a voice in her head, _was she sympathizing with the enemy?_

“Are you sure Veronika will be in her office when we land?” asked Gina, catching on to Capheus’ distraction tactic. Starting a fight in the middle of the sky was far from ideal, but Kala admitted Lila was getting on her nerves more than she’d liked. 

“We’re sure,” said Lila. She gave Gina a quick look-over before she raised an eyebrow and turned back to face the front.

“We need to stop the attack after we get Veronika,” said Wolfgang.

“I knew you’d say that, Wolfgang.” Lila didn’t turn back to look at him, but the smugness in her voice was apparent. “Always playing hero.”

The corner of Wolfgang’s mouth twitched. “I’m not selfish like you.”

“Self-preservation kept us alive. Not reckless stupidity,” said Lila, not denying the accusation. “But if you’re going to risk your lives a second time tonight, be my guest.”

*

 **_6:26 PM, BPO_ ** _(Amanita, Nomi, Dani, Felix, Kiira, Leon, Genevieve, Miki)_

The facility was a rectangular, sixteen-stories death trap. It fit right in this part of the city. The building was made of glass, with a skylight that shone through every floor above ground, giving this place a sense of false transparency. This was an office building like all other office buildings: clean, utilitarian… and brightly lit, even at (said the watch on Nomi’s wrist) 6:26 in the evening.

Amanita scoffed at the irony. To say this building held more secrets than meets the eye would have been an understatement. Pointless, even, when their very mission was to expose the organization for all the world to see.

They had parked their rental car a block away from the BPO building and made their ways over, hiding behind other cars parked along the road to avoid being spotted.

“We should go in through the staff entrance,” Kiira whispered. 

“That’s around the back? Near the bike shed?” Dani whispered back.

Kiira nodded yes, and that was the end of that discussion. 

None of them even thought to go near the front gates. Mavis, with the help of Will and the others who had snuck into this building last time, had given them a crash course when they were all staying at the Paris safe house. 

Lesson one: the front doors were always, _always_ , heavily guarded. And the fake ID tactic Will had pulled would not have worked again if Lito weren’t there to lie their way in. But as things had unfortunately worked out, Lito was all the way in Paris.

Thankfully they made their ways over to the back unnoticed. One employee and their companion were about to enter. There was no one else in the vicinity as far as Amanita could tell, and a look at the rest of her team confirmed they believed the same thing. This was a chance they had to take.

Dani had knocked one person unconscious before Amanita could finish that thought. This was the first time she’d seen the other woman in action. Maybe Felix’s, too — he was gawking like a fish, and if it weren’t for Leon’s urgent whisper for help as he tackled the other person down, Felix wouldn’t have snapped out of this daze.

Two snatched IDs in hand, they unlocked the door and marched in like they belonged there, and ran straight to the changing room before they could be spotted. Lockers and a rack with a few spare Hazmat suits greeted them. 

That was a relief, but no one wanted to celebrate. They’d expected the racks to be full. It had been the last time they were here. But apparently it was a busy day of kidnaps and murders, so most of the employees were still inside the building somewhere. It’d be a pain in the ass to avoid them. Thank God for disguises.

“We all remember the plan?” Nomi asked as she closed the door behind her.

Everyone nodded. 

Lesson two of Mavis’ crash course: Lower level one was the parking garage. Lower level two was where they had to go. It was the experimental floor, full of rooms with Traceworks machines and EEG caps used to control the Bolgers. Tonight, of course, they’d be packed with Headhunters.

And lower level three was the interrogation rooms, but if all went well, none of them would have to go near that creepy place.

They fitted themselves with the white suits, complete with masks and name tags that belonged to hell knew who. Amanita opened the door to a slit after they were done, and drew back abruptly when she saw security guards marching down the hall, sporting their signature black uniforms. She shut the door quietly and signaled the others to wait. Sure, they looked like they belonged there, Hazmats and all; but there had to be a reason no real employee was in the changing room, and now was a terrible time to arouse suspicion.

“Sun says they’re almost here,” Nomi announced, adjusting her earpiece. Normally Amanita knew she’d have looked through Sun’s eyes, but Noms and all the other sensates with them had injected themselves with Blockers on their drive over in case Headhunters were on the lookout. “How did you - A police car? Seriously?”

Amanita snorted. “They stole a police car?” 

Judging by the way Noms rolled her eyes, she guessed that was a yes.

“Are the guards still out there?” asked Felix.

After pressing her ear to the door, Amanita confirmed they were.

“Bloody hell,” said Leon, “how many of them are there?”

“There’s gonna be more attacks?!” Nomi whisper-shouted to Bug.

“What?” Amanita turned to face her. “Where?”

“Bug says that’s what Lila told the others. Now they’re all -” she scrunched up her brows to try and establish a mind connection - “they’re all Blocked. _Shit_.”

“So the King’s Cross attack could have been a diversion tactic?” asked Kiira, pulling at her afro through the hood of her suit in frustration. “I _wondered_ why they didn’t use more soldiers in King’s Cross. Argh!”

Dani suppressed a gasp and turned to Kiira. “Do you think there could be another one? Another attack? God, what if it’s not even a Bolger attack? You said there were guards at the farmer’s market, right? What if they’re gonna kidnap -”

“A Reciphorum manhunt?” Kiira finished her thought. “It’s… It’s possible.”

Fucking BPO. This sounded like something Veronika could pull. Maybe she’d known they’d come to BPO following the Bolger attack at King’s Cross — she wasn’t stupid. And they were nowhere near outsmarting her, trapped in the dressing room like this. They didn’t even know where the hell this Reciphorum bait was gonna be dropped.

Fucking hell.

“Bug, where are they headed?” asked Nomi. A few seconds later she relayed, “He said some are heading to the parking garage - you might be onto something, Dani, they could be heading out to - and - what, are you sure, Bug?”

“What? What is it?” asked Amanita.

“Some of them are headed to the atrium. On this floor, near the front entrance.”

Amanita swore. Nothing good ever happened in a meeting at a place like this, if Will’s visions through Whispers’ eyes were any indication. _Especially_ not now. “Why?”

“Will’s here, oh, good,” Nomi added suddenly before she frowned. “And Bug says there’s a meeting. Someone’s on stage… _Oh my God, Neets_ ,” she whimpered.

“Honey, what is it?!” 

“They’re bringing out someone on a stretcher. A guy,” Nomi’s voice broke. “It’s an execution, Neets. Oh my God. They’re gonna kill him.”

The footsteps in the hall faded into an eerie silence. Amanita pulled the door open and stepped out ahead of the others, back to the staff entrance to let Will and the others in. “The hell they are.”

*

 **_6:32 PM, BPO, Front Entrance_ ** _(Will, Riley, Sun, Mun, Mavis)_

Five black cars gathered at the front entrance of the Parliament facility. Will and the others had parked their stolen police vehicle around the corner and made their ways over on foot, careful to stay out of view.

Will prayed no one was checking the surveillance cameras around this place. A quick glimpse into his mind confirmed Whispers was Blocked at the moment. Hopefully, Bug had managed to hack into the surveillance system and cut the camera off. People in suits exited from the cars and marched straight through the doors like they had been scheduled to attend some kind of meeting.

“This can’t be good,” whispered Mavis.

He shot her a questioning look, seconded by Sun and Detective Mun.

“They only show up for assemblies,” explained the former spy. “Nothing good ever happens during an assembly.”

“I would expect nothing less from BPO,” said Sun.

“Last assembly I went to?” Mavis added, “They killed a guy. In front of everyone. They wanted to make an example of him. I don’t even remember what he did.”

“Fuck.” Will gritted his teeth. Riley’s trembling hand squeezed his shoulder, cold against the warmth radiating from his skin, left over from his adrenaline rush.

“Bug said Nomi and the others are in,” Sun told them, tapping the device on her ear. “They went around the back. There is a staff entrance, but it requires an ID.”

“Great. Any employees around?” asked Will. 

Sun relayed the question. “No. Everyone is inside, or at the assembly. But Amanita will come open the door for us.”

When the _sapiens_ all made their ways in, they ran to the back of the building as fast as their legs could carry them. Amanita opened the door before they could crash into it. She all but pulled them into the dressing room to change into Hazmat suits. 

“Wouldn’t they notice these are gone?” asked Genevieve, eyeing the rack. There were less than a dozen spare suits left.

“Evening shifts don’t end ‘till nine. They won’t come back here before that,” Mavis recalled.

“You think we’ll be out by nine?” Asked Felix.

Sun shrugged. “We will have to be quick.”

“Now what?” asked Dani, pulling the Hazmat mask over her head again. They copied her, relieved they had something to cover their faces.

Will straightened. “We stop the execution.”

“Bug? Any ideas?” asked Nomi. “He said he’ll trigger an alarm, up in the chemistry labs. They’ll have to evacuate the crowd. 7th to 10th floor, right?”

“Yup,” Mavis confirmed. “Diversion, huh?”

Amanita looked down at her suit. “At least we’ll blend right in.”

There were twelve of them, and one person they had to rescue. No point in having everyone go on this mission together — they had Headhunters to confront down in lower level 2, and incriminating documents to look for up in 11th to 13th. The best strategy was to split up and hope they all make it out.

“I know the structure of the lower levels,” Kiira volunteered. “And I can work the EEG system and stop the next soldier attack, if it’s soon.”

“I’ll go down with her,” said Leon.

Dani and Felix exchanged a nod before they agreed to come along.

After checking for footsteps, Will pulled open the door and led them down the hall, towards the backstage area where they stored old projectors and microphones. It would take less than a minute for them to pull the guy out of center stage by his stretcher and bring him outside through the back door they used. Another minute or two if they had to make quick work and deal with the real Hazsuits before the higher-ups noticed.

No one else was dying tonight.

*

 **_6:37 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2, South Wing_ ** _(Kiira, Leon, Dani, Felix)_

“When do we have to leave again?” Kiira heard a woman in a guard’s uniform say. 

Leon shot Kiira a questioning look through his mask, which she responded with a shrug. Felix and Dani, too, hesitated before deciding to follow behind the guards, hoping to pass as regular employees working a night shift. The three of them kept close to Kiira — a strategic choice, given she was the only one of the four familiar with the structure of the lower levels: four wings, scattered across the floor like a maze. 

A twisted maze with 120-degree turns instead of 90 and too many doors.

“6:45,” said the second guard, marching down the hall next to her. “Williams says we’re meeting in the garage in five minutes.”

Kiira assumed they meant the Reciphorum attack. If this had been a lobotomized soldier attack, they would have used Bolgers instead of guards. A lot more Headhunters, working behind the scenes.

The question now was, who was keeping their mind open to use the Reciphorum, and who was operating the Traceworks? The most logical option at this point was Milton or Pelzer. Mavis had told her Kareem had escaped from the facility where he was locked, so the only other sensate they could have used to activate the Reciphorum was Jonas.

But she was sure Jonas wasn’t the only person available. An organization like BPO would keep more prisoners, and finding him wouldn’t necessarily have eliminated the possibility of a Reciphorum-induced manhunt.

“What’s the plan?” whispered Felix, close to her ear.

“We have to stop the kidnapping somehow,” she muttered back, slowing down a little so the guards wouldn’t overhear.

Three _sapiens_ in suits passed by, patrolling the halls. Kiira and the others stopped in front of a door and pretended to unlock the nearest room in preparation for whatever attack it was they had got planned. Dani plugged a bobby pin she kept on the sleeve of her shirt into the keyhole and jiggled the lock. The _sapiens_ left them alone and walked down the right fork in the hallway towards an elevator.

“What about finding the Headhunters?” whispered Felix.

“If they’re dispatching guards now, I think the Reciphorum attack might be more of an emergency,” Dani pointed out.

No one else made any comments as they hastened to catch up with the guards, who took the left fork and headed for the stairs. Instead of following the guards, they waited until the door fully closed and gave the guards a few seconds to walk down. If they followed them up the stairs to the parking garage, it would have been a dead giveaway.

When they entered the stairwell, all was quiet. They trod on the stairs as lightly as they could. Kiira hadn’t seen any security cameras around the corners of the wall, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be overheard.

Halfway through their climb, footsteps echoed from the floor below.

“What in the -”

Kiira shushed Leon before he could swear. Even through their masks, Kiira could tell the others were on high alert. Sweat gathered at her palms, and she wiped them on her suit. They all but ran up the rest of the steps to lower level one.

From the small window on the door, it would appear the guards who had come up this way via elevator were nowhere near them. So they pushed the door open — Kiira cringed when it creaked — and paused for a few more seconds before squeezing their ways out, breathing a collective sigh of relief when no one seemed to have heard.

Dani and Felix ran out first and took cover behind a blue car fifteen cars away. Kiira and Leon were about to follow them there when more footsteps echoed in the stairwell, this time close to the door. They ran to the nearest black minivan for cover in a panic and hid in the space between the van and another silver car. 

Kiira and Leon peeked from around the back of the van to see who was following them upstairs. It could be someone from lower level 3, where they conducted interrogations. A Headhunter about to leave for home, perhaps? 

Two men emerged from the stairwell with slow, steady steps. One look at their lifeless eyes and the long, puckered scar cross their foreheads told them they were no Headhunter. They drew their heads back, behind the protection of the van, and Kiira bit down on her teeth hard, not daring to make a sound. 

They had come from lower level 4, then. The floor where BPO kept all their undead soldiers. The first question was why a soldier was there during what they had assumed was preparation for the Reciphorum attack, but the voices in Kiira’s head were shouting at each other in panic

All she could think about was the _eyes_.

Kiira had seen through the eyes of a Bolger when Pelzer had forced her to command one in Beijing, but never made contact with one. Mavis had told her afterwards that it was “creepy beyond words” to see a lobotomized sensate face to face. Their skin hadn’t turned “dry or green or gray, or whatever a corpse is supposed to look like”, and if they had hidden their scars beneath something, they’d look like any other person. But if Kiira made eye contact, she’d know. Because they never blinked. And they never, _ever_ , looked away.

The hair on Kiira’s arms stood up, and Leon had his hands over his mouth. The Bolger stopped moving five steps away from the van, barely out of eyeshot, but thankfully another van swerved around the corner and stopped in front of the two undead men, who stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

As soon as the car sped away, they peeked their heads out to see where the exit was. It was right down this driveway, not too far, and no one was working at the gate, as it opened automatically. A peek at the silver car next to them told Kiira all vehicles here had a visitors’ pass stuck on the corner of the front window. 

“I guess we follow them,” said Leon.

Kiira nodded. It would appear Felix and Dani had the same idea, as they started the ignition on the blue car (Capheus must have taught them a few tricks, and Felix, surely, would know how to break into any locked vehicle). Felix rolled down the driver’s window and stuck out a hand, beckoning them to join.

So they did. Kiira and Leon sprinted across the driveway, desperate for cover. It wasn’t a very far sprint. They were five cars away from Felix and Dani when Kiira felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Found you,” whispered a sickeningly sweet voice, too close to Kiira’s ear for comfort.

“Those the only infiltrators?” growled another, who maintained an iron hold on a protesting Leon, muscular arm locked across his shoulder blades like a trap. More footsteps caught up with them, and more hands grabbed at their shoulders and limbs. How many there were, Kiira couldn’t say; but enough for her to know they stood no chance.

“Go!” Leon shouted, in the direction of Felix and Dani’s stolen car. “Get out of here!” Kiira joined in, bellowing for them to make a run for it.

After a moment’s hesitation, they did. They sped away towards the exit as more guards ran for them. The last thing Kiira saw before they dragged her and Leon away was the gate opening, and she thanked the stars they managed to escape. Dani had a Bluetooth device for contact. Maybe she’d tell Bug to keep an eye on them.

A sharp, cold needle jammed its way into Kiira’s neck, injecting a warm liquid into her veins. Then she was lifted off her feet, back towards the stairwell. She could still see, but her eyelids were getting heavy, and Leon’s protests sounded mumble-y and far away and her hands twitched and her arms and legs were numb. One guard put a hand over Kiira’s mask like they had known she was trying to see where she was going.

Lower level 2 was the only place they kept sensate prisoners. Or lower level 3, but would they interrogate them? They wouldn’t find much. She and Leon didn’t know where Felix and Dani were going to go, or where the others were now.

The other possibility was much more daunting, and the mere thought would have made Kiira shiver if she hadn’t lost the feeling of her limbs: she and Leon were going to be given the _Reciphorum_ while other Headhunters would be in charge of the other attack. 

A Headhunter, Milton or Pelzer, most likely, would track down the other sensates using the same drug in this city using the Traceworks. And kidnap them. And turn them into Bolgers.

*

 **_6:41 PM, BPO, Atrium_ ** _(Nomi, Amanita, Will, Sun, Mun, Genevieve, Miki, Mavis)_

The atrium looked a lot less daunting in the visions Will had sent Nomi. Maybe it was the size of the crowd. Usually, there were BPO workers in Hazmat suits present, perhaps a hundred or so. Plus the two dozen _sapiens_ , and a few Headhunters standing by to watch the person on stage suffer. But today everyone in the audience was wearing black suits. And Nomi suspected, with their full Hazmat gears, complete with masks to hide their faces, showing up now would be a dead giveaway. 

Shit.

“We are gathered here today to witness the eradication of another traitor to our cause,” said the man on stage, voice booming over the microphone.

A closer look confirmed what Nomi suspected — the man was Professor Kolovi.

“I fucking knew it,” Amanita muttered.

Will nodded at the stretcher on stage. “He’s up there.”

“Are Sun and Mun ready for us?” asked Genevieve, scooting in as close as she could without being seen by people standing in the audience.

“Bug, any time now,” whispered Nomi, nervously fiddling with the straps of her backpack. She’d kept extra supplies in there, Blockers, mainly. Sun and Mun had taken their guns to wait for them in the place where the backstage area met the hallway, ready to take out any guards set out to stop them and the Veracity spy from escaping.

“On it,” came Bug’s voice through the Bluetooth device. “And three, and two, and one -”

The alarm went off, blaring through the building like a high-pitched shriek. The _sapiens_ in the audience covered their ears, but before they could run out, they were surrounded by guards coming in from the doors around the atrium. 

Professor Kolovi chuckled and turned to the side of the stage. They drew back instinctively, even if they knew he couldn’t see them hiding in the shadows cast by the curtains. “It would appear there’s a fire in the chemistry labs,” he said, amused. “But I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to evacuate after the execution.”

From an inside pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a gun and aimed it at the bound man on the stretcher, who looked at the Professor in wide-eyed panic, mumbling through the duct tape over his mouth.

Before Riley could utter a word, Will ran up the stage and slapped the gun out of Professor Kolovi’s hand, knocking him off balance. He fell back, and Will knelt down in front of him, ready to take aim. Guards swarmed onto the stage, some two dozen of them, maybe more. Down below, the _sapiens_ screamed. Will unlocked the safety on his stolen gun, but they tackled him down before he could shoot.

They tore off his mask.

“It’s him!” One of the guards shouted. “Will Gorski! He was there! In Iceland -”

As the guards set out to drag Will away, Nomi realized his mind hadn’t been Blocked in all their rush to stop the execution. He knew where everyone was. He knew almost every aspect of their plan. There was no way they could out-fight more than twenty guards, and Sun and Mun were tucked away near the staff entrance where they came in, out of earshot -

“There’s got to be more of them!” Shouted another guard, pointing at the backstage where Nomi and the others were currently hiding.

Nomi knew what she had to do. This was going to be suicide.

The Professor regained his footing and readied himself to shoot again. Nomi reached into her backpack and fished out a syringe.

“ _Noms_ ,” Amanita pleaded, her hand around Nomi’s wrist.

“I have to, Neets,” her voice shook, but she stood up and took off her earpiece, handing it over to her fiancée. “Run,” she told everyone. “Go get Sun and Mun.”

Already, more guards were running up the stage, towards the back. Amanita was wrestling with the first of the guards, and Riley, Miki, Genevieve, and Mavis were busy trying to duck their ways free from their new pursuers.

Before Amanita could protest, Nomi had run onto the stage. 

“Run!” Nomi turned back to her fiancée and shouted again as she saw Amanita break free of her attacker. “Neets, please!”

More guards, too many for Nomi to count, storming into the atrium from God knew where. But she was already up on the stage. They had already seen her. She flailed her arms to deflect the other guards who tried to grab her and made it to where Will was lying on the ground on his stomach with four guards forcing him down. 

She grabbed Will by the shoulder, the Blocker syringe in her other hand, and felt someone drag her by her legs. With a grunt, she jabbed the needle into Will’s neck and injected the Blocker before she was pulled away from him again.

Then she felt a needle in her own neck, flooding her veins with a warm tingling sensation before it spread through her limbs and left her numb. Someone ripped off her mask and pulled off the hood of her stolen Hazmat suit and put their arm over her eyes. But not before she locked eyes with Professor Kolovi.

“Nomi Marks. At last.”

*****

**_6:47 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2, West Wing_ ** _(Jonas)_

The door to Jonas’ interrogation room unlocked with a click.

Jonas pretended he was unconscious in his recliner chair and until the employee in the Hazmat suit walked over and whispered, “ _Beneath this mask there is more than flesh_ *****." 

It was the right code. Not a Veracity code, but a personal one Jonas h’ad relayed to Stanley from last time. His eyes opened a slit, and he looked for the name tag on their Hazmat suit. There was none. Just like they’d agreed.

“The cameras?” Jonas whispered back.

“They’re having trouble accessing them from the control room,” said Stanley. “Veracity hackers must’ve done something.”

Jonas opened his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the stretcher. “Tonight’s the raid?”

“They’re here,” Stanley confirmed. “I snuck down here while they were in the atrium wreaking havoc. Will got caught. And someone else… that hacker what’s-her-name?”

“Nomi.” Jonas sighed. “Foolish of them to intervene during an execution. But good for me.”

Stanley offered a hand, and Jonas took it, standing up with difficulty. His head spun from all the time he’d spent lying down. He couldn’t quite figure out where he was stepping, but he didn’t seem to be walking into anything dangerous. 

“You can barely walk, Jo.”

Jonas rolled his eyes at the nickname. “I can walk enough to get myself across the hall. That’s where he’ll keep Will and Nomi.”

Stanley fished in his back pocket for the gun he’d brought, which he handed to Jonas. “Who, Whispers?”

“He wouldn’t pass up a chance to interrogate Will Gorski.”

“Hang on.” His old friend stopped him. He turned, as much as he could without losing balance, and saw Stanley pull out something from a drawer. A spare Hazmat suit.

“They keep extras in the torture chambers?” Jonas asked, incredulous. 

He opened the package and unzipped the suit, stepping inside. His head spun again at the motion, and he leaned against a wall for support as he dressed.

“Guess they don’t like blood on their suits.” Stanley shrugged.

Jonas let out a dry chuckle. “I suppose they’d call it biological contamination. But it served me well.” He pulled up the zipper and the hood. 

Stanley handed Jonas a spare mask from another cabinet, which he put on. It made everything in his vision slightly darker like he was wearing sunglasses indoors. Not helping when his vision was blurry — the electric pulses may have done some damage to his optic nerves — but it was necessary when his face was known to everyone in the building.

“And here.” Stanley took out the name tag he’d pocketed, the one that went with his own stolen suit. “In case folks get suspicious.”

 _Adams_ , said the black tag, a _sapien_ tag. Jonas didn’t know an Adams who worked for Veracity. Perhaps they were loyal to the organization. A fitting identity to steal for the night.

“Much appreciated,” said Jonas, who found his footing and shuffled towards the door slowly. 

“I can come,” offered Stanley. “Kareem’s gonna kill me when I get back to Chicago for letting you out. He thinks I should wait to rescue you. Leave you be ‘till the August 8 cluster kills everyone.”

Right. Kareem believed Jonas wanted to kill Milton himself. He had reason to believe Stanley thought the same. It was, of course, a logical assumption, if it weren’t for the fact that Angelica was dead. It would be merciful for Jonas to kill the other man, but mercy had never been his strong suit. 

No. He wanted to keep Whispers alive. Barely, but alive. Away from her.

Jonas shook his head. “You have to leave.” 

Stanley shrugged. “If you insist. But I’m walking you out.”

They walked down the hallway, Jonas as slowly as he could without causing suspicion. Twice he nearly stumbled into a wall but caught himself in time.

“What made you choose my side?” he asked Stanley as they neared the stairwell. His old friend was heading to his car, which he’d driven into the parking garage without arousing suspicion. Stanley had always worked with Veracity behind the scenes; it was unlikely he’d even made eye contact with any Headhunter at all.

Stanley snorted, pushing open the door. “It’s not all because of you, Jo. I figured you’d make a good distraction so Will and the others can get the killing done. Or maybe you’ll beat them to Whispers. Either way.”

So much for that plan, if Will and Nomi had already gotten themselves captured. 

But it didn’t affect Jonas’ own agenda. The cluster would most likely save their friends in the nick of time, and there was no time for Jonas to worry about them when he was close to his own target. Plus, Will’s capture could make Whispers much easier to find.

“This is goodbye, then,” said Jonas. “See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Full quote from V for Vendetta: _“Beneath this mask there is more than flesh, Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.”_
> 
> * * *
> 
> WHO'S READY FOR ACTION?!
> 
> Also, in case ya haven't noticed, I'M BACK! Apologies I've been away a week longer than I intended. I had all but forgotten I had midterms last week, being the responsible student that I am. But it is now spring break, and I have chapters 34-36 all written and ready to edit. 
> 
> **The tentative schedule is a chapter every third day, so chapter 34 should, ideally, be out on Tuesday.** Chapter 37 might be a bit more of a wait since I have to, ya know, write it, but before that, I would have to break up the action too much. How's this for a sweet, sweet return?
> 
> MASSIVE THANK YOU'S FOR MY WONDERFULLY PATIENT BETA, @LettersfromLaika, who took time out of her busy schedule to help me work through the logistics of this monster of a chapter along with the next three! Love you <3 <3 <3


	34. What is best in life?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some of our heroes try to stay out of trouble, and others go looking for them.
> 
> “What is best in life? Crush your enemies! See them driven before you!”  
> — From S1E11, “Just Turn the Wheel and the Future Changes”

******_6:49 PM, BPO, Weaponry_ ** _(Sun, Mun, Riley, Amanita, Genevieve, Miki, Mavis)_

“Sun,” Bug’s voice came through the device clipped to her ear. There was a tension in his voice that made Sun frown; she’d never heard the guy sound so scared. “You there?”

“I’m here.”

“We lost Noms and Will -”

Sun curled up her fist, feeling the urge to slam it into something solid. But she turned her gaze to Detective Mun — Kwon-Ho — and reminded herself to resist the temptation.

“They lost Nomi and Will,” she told him, turning to head back to the atrium. “I should have gone with them. I -”

“ _Sun_ ,” Detective Mun — _Kwon-Ho_ — interrupted, nodding at the corner of the hall.

They heard footsteps coming down this way, thudding against the marble tiles. Sun readied herself for another fight.

“ _Don’t_!” Mavis shouted through the mask of her Hazmat suit. She ran over and stopped abruptly in front of them, putting up her arms as she breathed in. “It’s - it’s us! And -”

“We’ll get them back,” Kwon-Ho said. “Did you see where they went?”

“Elevators -” Amanita wheezed, out of breath - “we didn’t -”

“We couldn’t see the floor,” Riley sounded close to tears.

Sun grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her forward, to the door that led to the guards’ quarters. The others followed, turning their heads back every other step to make sure no one was coming. Will had stopped here last time before he went to confront Whispers, and he’d told her it was locked with an electronic pad. She didn’t know the passcode. 

Not that it mattered.

When Sun reached the door, she reached into the hood of her Hazmat suit and pulled a bobby pin from her hair. It worked like a lever against the lid of the lock pad, and the surface came off, exposing the wires. 

Detective-Kwon-Ho looked between Sun and the lock. “How did you -”

“We need to cut this,” Sun interrupted.

Mavis pulled out the switchblade tucked inside her boot and handed it to her. Sun hacked through the wires, and the lock clicked open.

“Wolfgang taught me a few tricks,” Sun explained, walking in. 

The shelf that greeted them held a dozen long rangers hanging by their handles, locked behind a glass case. But Sun turned to her right and headed for the drawers, digging through the much more functional weapons.

“We need to ditch our old guns,” said the detective. “Pretty sure they’re out of bullets.”

It was getting stuffy inside the small room. After they closed the door, they pulled off their masks. Sun faced Kwon-Ho. “Glocks 17? Or 26?”

He paused, probably surprised at how much she knew about guns. But with Wolfgang in her head, it was hard for Sun not to accumulate knowledge like this. “I’d say 17.” He pulled out the labeled drawer. “More noticeable. Larger standard capacity. Pretty accurate hits.” 

“We need bullets,” said Amanita. She had already pulled out a box full of magazines and loaded the Glocks, a determined look on her face.

“Lower level 3’s our best bet,” said Mavis. “Interrogation rooms.”

“Let’s go then.” Amanita headed to the door. 

“Wait -” said Bug through the communication device. Sun and Amanita stopped to listen. “Dani’s calling - shit. _Shit_.”

“What is it?” asked Sun, putting a hand to halt everyone else before they got to the door.

“It’s Kiira and Leon,” Bug answered. “ _Shit_. The guards took them.”

“What?!” Amanita’s voice broke.

“They’ve got to be in LL3,” said Mavis, plopping down on a bench. “They’re not - no one’s on Blockers, right? So they might be taken in for questioning, without the Traceworks.”

“What about Will?” asked Riley.

“Noms Blocked him,” Amanita recalled. “But - _Shit_. I don’t know. What if they put him in lower level two anyway? With the machines and the -”

“ _Torture_ ,” Riley finished for her in a shaky voice.

“We can search in LL2,” Mavis offered, patting Riley on the shoulder. “That’s gonna be heavily guarded, especially if Will’s in there.”

“We’ll come with you,” Genevieve volunteered as Miki came over to stand by her side.

“Security coming down this way, two hallways down,” Bug warned. Sun looked at Amanita, who gave her a nod before relaying the message to everyone else.

“Help me find Noms?” Amanita asked Sun and Kwon-Ho.

They pulled their masks back on and ran down the hallway to the left, towards another set of stairs, and headed down before security could come around from the other side. Sun pulled out a syringe from her bag, the one she’d carried with her in case of emergencies, and injected herself as they reached lower level 2. She had made contact with Pelzer back in Beijing, and something told her BPO would be on the lookout for infiltrators.

“Is that the Blocker?” asked Kwon-Ho.

Sun nodded. “They might look for us through the connection.”

“But then how will we find you?” asked Riley. 

Riley’s mind, Sun knew, was still open. Her identity was known, but thankfully, she had abstained from making any connections with unwelcome sensates except with Lila. Not that Lila could do anything when she was in the air with Wolfgang and company.

“Whoever finishes first goes to the other floor?” Amanita suggested. “And look for the others. _And_ try not to get caught.”

“Sounds good,” said Sun. 

After another look at her three allies, Sun headed for the floor below along with the Detective and Amanita, hoping to find Nomi _and_ Kiira _and_ Leon before it was too late.

*

**_6:51, BPO, Lower Level 2_ ** _(Mavis, Riley, Genevieve, Miki)_

The structure of the lower levels was disorienting, even to Mavis, and she’d worked here for two years. The hallways didn’t turn at ninety degrees, and the four wings broke off into more branches of experimentation rooms, all stemming from a circular area in the center. 

The stairwell they walked out of led right into the back area of the west wing. Mavis guided Riley, Genevieve, and Miki through a straight hallway, one that would lead them to the center area which connected all four wings. She knew all the twists and turns of the lower levels, but with more than a hundred rooms per floor and way too many wall corners behind which security guards could be hiding, it was gonna take a while to find Will.

Mavis knew some of her allies had been here last time to smuggle Whispers out, but she also knew they had been lucky to get out because the room they found the Headhunter in was close to the center near two elevators. If it had been on the far end? Well, with Nomi’s hacking, they could have gotten through anyway, but they’d have run into all kinds of personnel, not just employees in Hazmat suits. And that would’ve meant trouble.

“Wouldn’t they think we’re suspicious?” whispered Genevieve. “What if no one down here’s in a suit again?”

“We’re fine. Everyone who works down here wears these, in case of contamination or whatever.” Mavis pulled at the sleeves of her stolen Hazmat. “And if they’re gonna bring anyone down, they’ll be using the elevators.”

“Let’s retrace their steps then,” Riley agreed.

The elevator pads showed that both elevators were on the 16th floor. Riley and Genevieve looked at Mavis, probably wondering if they should follow up there — it was hard to tell with the masks. Mavis shook her head. “They’d have brought Will down a while ago. He can’t be up on 16th. There’s nothing there except offices.”

“You don’t think they could’ve locked him in one?” asked Miki.

“Well, _maybe_ ,” Mavis conceded as they turned back to check for skid marks on the ground, “but if they took him in for questioning I think they’d want to -”

Two more figures in Hazmat suits stood in their way, forcing them to stand back up. For a few seconds, the five of them stood there, frozen. Mavis knew _she_ shouldn’t talk, they’d recognize her voice, and she and the others would’ve been screwed. 

Then again, they’d probably already heard her whispering if they’d been standing close.

The taller figure tapped their name tag with the palm of their right hand three times then crossed their arms. Their companion copied the gesture. Then they both stepped aside to let them pass.

Mavis smiled upon seeing the secret gesture. They were Veracity spies, too. 

About freaking time. 

She thanked her lucky stars and beckoned for her three allies to hurry as they nearly sprinted down the main hallway of the south wing in relief. It was the only wing that was fully lit. The other three only had the hallway lights on, but none of the rooms seemed occupied — no light emanating from the gaps underneath the doors.

As they reached the one room in sight where there was light from within, Mavis felt someone pull her back by the arm. Genevieve screamed, then Riley. Mavis stomped on the foot of her captor behind her back and tried to wriggle herself free. 

The grasp around her arm tightened, so she did the only thing she could and turned and hit her captor on the crotch with her knee. Her captor yelped in pain in a voice she didn’t recognize. Crap. With all of them in the same suits, it was going to be hard to separate her allies from her enemies. 

She heard gunshots, and desperately hoped it was her allies who fired.

Two more pairs of hands reached for Mavis’ suit. She flailed her arms and deflected one, but the other was much more stubborn. A fist, Miki’s fist, hit the stubborn guy right in the guts, and he doubled over. Miki finished him off with a bullet to the head.

The two of them ducked and weaved between other guards to look for Riley and Genevieve. They found Genevieve being dragged away weaponless at the end of the hall, and Miki ran over. She shot one of the captors in the arm, and they screamed and let go, but three more came over to take their place. 

Mavis turned around to look for Riley, running from more guards waiting to catch her. Another person grabbed her by the back of her suit from behind. She turned and shot them in the torso, somewhere in the center, somewhere deadly, and flinched as blood immediately soaked through their suit.

“Run!” yelled Riley’s voice, barely audible somewhere behind her.

There was an opening ahead, but now that Mavis knew where Riley was, she turned back and tried to push her way through the three — or was it four? — figures who pulled off Riley’s mask and hood and injected something into her neck. 

_No. No no no._ This couldn’t be happening. 

Riley’s hand had already begun to go limp. This was it. They were drugging her. _Great_. How were they going to get her out when -

Without finishing that thought, Mavis stabbed one of Riley’s captors in the back with her switchblade and pushed him aside, and the person next to them grabbed Mavis by the elbow to keep her from stabbing anyone else. Another pair of hands wrapped around her ankles for a second before they let go. Mavis made out the distinctive voice of Miki’s high-pitched, very impressive war cry. When did she come over?

“Go! Find the others!” yelled Genevieve, already at the far end of some hallway, out of reach.

Mavis turned around and landed a kick at what she hoped was another guard, and her boot landed on someone’s shin. She yanked her elbow away before they had time to react in time to see Miki pulling free from someone else’s hands next to her. Stumbling now, Mavis grabbed Miki by the arm and pulled her away from the scuffle. 

They ran through the center area and headed for the west wing again without stopping. There was no time for Mavis to look behind her and check how many people were on her tail, but she fired behind her back, knowing none of her pursuers would have been an ally. Miki, she guessed, was probably doing the same.

The pounding in Mavis’ ears drowned out the sound of footsteps as she and Miki all but collided with the door of the stairwell and made their ways down to lower level three.

*

**_6:56, BPO, Lower Level 3_ ** _(Sun, Mun, Amanita, Mavis, Miki)_

Sun marched down the hall with Amanita and Kwon-Ho, sticking close enough to the other people in Hazmat without drawing too much attention to themselves. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to find two more Hazsuits and was readying her fist to take them down when she noticed the signature black boots on one of them, plus splatters of blood on the pants of both their suit.

“Mavis?” Amanita whispered next to Sun. “And who’s -”

Mavis nodded through her mask before nudging them to follow the others. She was careful to hide behind all of them — the blood splatters would have raised suspicions. But they had to blend in to locate where BPO kept their prisoners.

Kwon-Ho turned back. “Hey, what happened to -”

“Guards,” said Miki as she pulled lifted her mask slightly.

Mavis ushered them to keep walking. “Miki and I barely got away. Last I saw they were taking them to the elevators.”

“You sure _you two_ are not followed?” asked Amanita.

Mavis shrugged. “I think I’ve lost them. There were too many of them and we had to make a break for it and they drugged Riley and -” she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“We should find other employees. We’ll blend in that way,” Kwon-Ho suggested.

First, they went inside a janitor’s closet, one that had an old-fashioned lock that was easy to pick, and cleaned up any evidence of blood on Mavis and Miki’s suits. One good thing about these suits was that no stain could stay on them. The very reason made Sun’s blood boil: people who wore these could go about their day torturing prisoners and return the next day with no evidence of what they’ve done.

Sun wanted to get out as soon as they could, but there was some commotion outside, so they stayed behind the door until the group had passed. Twelve employees in Hazmat suits were walking in front of them now, so they followed.

Sun whipped her head around quickly as they walked, checking underneath every door to see if a light had been turned on.

Nothing. _Nothing_.

It seemed like they were heading to the center area again, the place that connected all four wings and had two elevators up and running. All Sun knew was that they looked like they were heading to some kind of mission.

Sure enough, two men in black suits stopped them in their tracks before they could get on the elevator. “You’re all here for the recruitment?” asked the first.

Everyone nodded.

“Very well,” said the second man, stepping aside to let them board the elevator. “Lower level two. South wing.”

The wing where Mavis had been earlier, Sun remembered. One that was brightly lit. They exchanged looks behind their masks. Was someone actually held there? Could they have been moved?

She had to find out. _Now_.

The elevator stopped in lower level 2, and the other twelve Hazsuits marched off to the south wing. They walked slower behind them, close enough to keep an eye on where they were going, but far enough, Sun hoped, to be out of earshot.

“Fucking hell,” Amanita muttered, “recruitment? Are they releasing more Reciphorum?”

“What, _now_?” asked Kwon-Ho. “In London?”

“Has to be London,” Mavis said after a pause. “There’d be no time for them to go too far if they’re already doing preparations.”

The Hazsuits turned a corner, and they did, too. Sun knew, from Mavis’ crash course when they were at the Paris safe house, that the most critical operations always took place deep within, many twists and turns away from the main hallway of the wing. The entire idea behind the structure of the lower levels was that no one could find their ways to the Headhunters and the assisting employees easily. 

But Sun’s cluster had done it once and made it out with Whispers. 

_When we find the Headhunters this time,_ Sun promised herself, _they’d be in for death._

Though before they did, they had to find Will and Nomi and Kiira and Leon and -

Sun resisted the urge to punch a wall for the second time this evening.

“We gotta keep looking for them,” Amanita muttered. “But we should stay together to fight the guards off if they send more guards after us but maybe we’ll cover more ground if we split up or - ugh. _Fuck_! I don’t know!”

They had been talking and following the other Hazsuits through too many twists and turns. Sun had lost track of where they were. All of them had, most likely, save for Mavis.

Sun took a deep breath to calm herself. Think. _Think_. In a massive underground structure, with a hundred rooms on each floor, it would be impossible to know where to start. 

Unless - 

“Do you think the Headhunters will know?” Sun asked Mavis. “Do you think they will know where everyone is locked up?”

“At least some of them should," Mavis whispered as she walked ahead, bringing their group a little closer to the other employees who were checking the room numbers on the doors and at their tablets.

“We can find them and ask,” Kwon-Ho suggested. “They’ll be here any second, right?”

Sun clutched her fists, readying herself for another fight. “Let’s.”

*

**_6:55 PM, Streets of London_ ** _(Felix, Dani)_

Felix had started the ignition on the blue McLaren 570GT and sped down the street before Dani could say a word. If they weren’t trying to chase down a van full of murderous zombie soldiers, Felix knew Dani would have teased him about his past criminal ways. He kept their distance but made sure the van was still in eyeshot, enough so the BPO guys wouldn’t notice they were tailing them. 

_Fuck_. Why did he and Dani have to be the only two people going after these murderers? How the hell was everyone else stuck in the headquarters? And Leon and Kiira — taken to who knew where right before their eyes. 

Fuck.

And yet he and Dani were the only ones who knew the zombies were out preparing for another attack, so they had to follow. Felix stepped on the pedal and speed down Who Knows What Road, bypassing the light just before it turned red. Three more blocks down, the black BPO van stopped on the side of the street behind another identical one. 

Felix parked their stolen car a distance away on the other side of the one-way street, watching the exchange like he and Dani were on a stakeout. He saw guards climb out from the driver’s side of both vans. They exchanged a few words.

“What are they doing?” asked Dani.

“Could be another van full of those zombie soldiers,” he speculated. “ _Fuck_.”

“Bug? You there?” asked Dani in a shaky voice, pressing the button on the device clipped to her ear, “Bug, please send help. Fuck, what street is this - oh, you found us? Good.”

After a few seconds, Felix turned to her and saw her sigh in relief. “So?”

“Bug’s gonna see if he can reach Sun. Right now they’re looking for Nomi and Will.”

Felix swallowed. He looked at the vans through the car window again, frowning at the two drivers who were still exchanging words. “They’re not making a move.”

And then they did. The two drivers marched across the empty street, right towards the direction of Felix and Dani's stolen blue McLaren. A couple guards climbed out the backs of both vans and followed. Fuck this flashy car. It was the opposite of useful on a stakeout.

“Felix, they’re armed.” Dani pointed.

Sure enough, the guys at the front were aiming their guns towards the driver’s window.

Without another word, Felix stepped on the pedal and backed the fuck out of there, turning the opposite way. “Buckle your seat belt, Dani,” he said, buckling himself before laying his hands back on the driver’s wheel. “It’s gonna be a fucking race.”

He rounded the corner and sped up, to hell if he was driving the wrong way on a one-way street, and headed towards the broadest road nearby. They were in one of the shopping districts, maybe Soho, since that was near Parliament. He swerved between the cars idly making their ways down the road, cursing with every turn.

The faster Felix drove, the more the seat belt stiffened, and the edges dug into his shoulders. Dani was silent next to him, but he didn’t need to check to know she was looking in the rearview mirror on her side, ready to warn him in case the vans were close. 

“They’re coming after us,” Dani said, her voice no longer shaking. 

She sounded deadly, professionally calm, even, now that they were so close to entirely fucked. But her voice gave Felix some level of reassurance because when the guys caught up, he was pretty sure Dani would shoot the fuck out of them.

A red mini cooper honked when Felix got too close to colliding with it. 

“It’s a fucking emergency, _Arschloch_ , piss off!” he hollered, knowing the driver would not, and could not, care to hear. 

“Where are you gonna go?” asked Dani.

“Don’t know,” he told her, turning a corner abruptly. “Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get them to come after us.”

If Felix knew anything about car chases, it was that the bad guys always chased after the person on the stakeout who saw all their evil dealings. No way they’d let a witness get away. Even if it meant diverting them from their original goals. And since this was a matter of life and death, a diversion would be very much needed.

Sure enough, from the rearview mirrors, Felix made out the ever-growing silhouettes of the two BPO vans in hot pursuit of their (unfortunately very blue) target.

*

**_7:03 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2, South Wing_ ** _(Amanita, Mavis, Miki, Sun, Mun)_

“Neets, there’s gonna be another Bolger attack,” said Bug through the communication device. “Dani and Felix went after them.”

It took all of Amanita’s self-control not to scream _What?!_ and expose herself.

“What is it?” Mavis turned. 

“Bug -” Amanita whispered, mindful of the other employees possibly within earshot - “are you sure it’s a Bolger attack?”

“A Bolger attack?” asked Miki quietly. 

Amanita was pretty sure the guys at the elevator said “recruitment”. But Bolgers would’ve been a different matter. They’d have aimed for the kill. Only the Reciphorum could draw out the sensates for BPO to kidnap back to headquarters.

Unless -

“That’s what Dani told me,” Bug confirmed. “Two vans full of ‘em, by the looks of it.” 

Two vans? Could BPO be planning a second Bolger attack _and_ a Reciphorum one?

What the hell were they playing at? Were they trying to draw them out? Amanita hated to say they were succeeding, but it wasn’t like they could all stay in the headquarters while the others were out there, about to be slaughtered.

She relayed the message to the others.

“Should we go?” asked Sun.

“What about the -” Detective Mun looked around, making sure no other Hazsuits were staring at them - “what about _this_?”

“Some of us can stay,” Mavis suggested.

“I’ll stay,” Amanita volunteered. “I’m sure we can shoot just fine, between the two of us. Shouldn’t be too many Headhunters.”

“Are you sure you will be fine?” asked Sun.

“I’ll stay, too,” said Miki.

“You two should go,” said Mavis. “Felix and Dani need backup.”

“And everyone else at the place of attack,” Mun added. His voice was a bit strained, and Amanita felt for the poor cop. This was a lot to take in.

“Then let’s go.” Sun swapped her Glock with Mavis’ empty one. The ex-spy looked like she was about to protest. “I can get more from the Bolgers.”

Mavis nodded. “Go to LL1. Stairs are over there.” She pointed down the hall. 

Thankfully, the Hazsuits they followed decided to turn the corner. With one last look at the retreating figures of Sun and Detective Mun, Amanita and Miki followed Mavis and caught up to the other Hazsuits. 

The Hazsuit leading their pack stopped and turned around. “These four.” He pointed at the doors near them, nearly aligned at the end of this little branch of a hallway.

“Schedule says they’ll come at 7:30.”

Amanita glanced at her watch. 7:08. They had a bit more time before the Headhunters were gonna show up, and it wasn’t like lingering around here was gonna help with their cover. When she and Miki couldn’t set up the EEG or whatever system they used for their manhunts, the other Hazsuits were gonna ask questions. And Mavis could only cover for her so much before they would’ve all been suspected.

Mavis turned and gave Amanita a discreet nod, confirming she was thinking the same. Before Amanita could figure out a plan to get out of this hallway, Mavis cleared her throat, and, in a deeper voice, muttered, “We’ll be right back.”

Then she tapped on Miki’s shoulder and gestured to the restroom sign hanging above their heads. The three of them went, nearly sprinting down the hall until they could hide behind the door. Thankfully the stalls were all empty.

“What if we just get rid of the people in the suits now?” asked Miki.

“They’re expendable,” said Mavis. “And the Headhunters will notice they’re gone when it’s 7:30 and they’ll send word for more -”

“And we’ll blow our cover,” Amanita finished for her. “Great. Wonderful.”

“We could go back to lower level three for a bit. Sneak out of here from the back door.” Mavis pointed towards the end of the stalls where there was another exit.

“You think Noms will be in LL3?” asked Amanita. “And Will?”

“If they’re using LL2 for _this_ , then yeah, possibly. They’d want a quieter space.”

To do what, Amanita didn’t want to think. And she sure wasn’t gonna let them get to that point. Not if they found Noms and Will first. And Riley. And Genevieve.

“If we can’t find them we can still come back at 7:30,” Miki agreed.

“The perfect backup,” Amanita added.

“What about Lito and the others?” Mavis started towards the back door. They followed.

“Paris is an hour and forty minutes away by helicopter, right?” Amanita recalled. They’d thought of helicopters as one way to get to London before Jonas went and got himself caught again and some of them had to relocate. “They’ll be here by about 7:50.”

Mavis pushed the back door open and peeked out to make sure no one else was coming this way, before gesturing for them to follow. “Yeah, let’s hope so.”

They sprinted down the stairs and came out to the south wing of LL3 where all the interrogation rooms were. The fact that BPO had so many made a chill creep up Amanita’s spine. The halls were deadly quiet, and they slowed down their steps, pretending to be doing rounds as they checked behind the window of every door for a light source, ears perked to the sound of a struggle. It would’ve been terrible if they were caught now. 

The Glock bulged in the pocket of Amanita’s suit. She put a hand over it carefully, just to make sure it was still there, desperately hoping they’d find Noms and the others soon.

If not? Well, she had to be prepared to interrogate some Headhunters.

*

**_7:10 PM, BPO, Lower Level 3_ ** _(Will)_

Will woke up in an empty room. He was lying in the corner of the wall. The back of his head throbbed painfully. The light came from next door through the glass window that sat between the rooms. It took all his self-control to sit upright and shut his eyes tight, begging the dizzy sensation in his head to fade.

When it did, Will became painfully aware of the silence in his mind. He remembered Nomi jabbing the needle of the Blocker injection into his neck moments before she got herself caught too. 

“Nomi?” he called out. His throat was parched, and he touched his neck, wincing when his hand made contact with a bruise.

There was no answer. Will couldn’t see Nomi anywhere, but he’d hoped she’d be nearby. Not that BPO had ever made it easy for one of them to find the others.

“Hello?” he tried again, ignoring the strain on his neck. “Anyone?”

With shaky legs, he pushed against the wall and stood up, inching his way towards the window. On the other side was a brightly lit room with a table and three seats. It was one of the interrogation rooms he remembered from his last invasion of this place. He didn’t know if it was the same one where he’d punched Whispers.

But he did recognize the figures slumped over the chairs on one side. Genevieve was stirring, struggling against the ropes that bound her to her chair. Next to her, Riley was on the brink of waking up. She opened her eyes and shut them tight immediately, before opening them again in a squint, trying to block out the stinging bright light.

They got Riley.

“No, no, no -” Will slurred, his head still spinning.

On the other side, the man in the chair leaned forward and chuckled. The sight of Professor Kolovi smiling at his new prisoners made Will’s blood boil, and he punched the glass -

“Riley!” Will shouted, feeling his knuckles numb from the impact as they came in contact with the cold glass. He swayed to the side and clung to the edge of the windowsill to keep himself from losing balance.

She didn’t see him. Her face was turned to the professor, and she shut her eyes again, muttering something under her breath.

“Riley!” He punched the glass window again.

But it was not just a glass window, he realized. No. This was a mirror. 

A soundproof, sturdy, one-sided mirror that separated his room from the interrogation room where Riley was trapped with Genevieve. There was a mirror in the interrogation room Will found Whispers in last time, but he hadn’t wondered what was behind it.

And this room Will was in? It was probably where the _sapiens_ leaders stood, watching, smiling, as Whispers and other Headhunters dealt with their unruly prisoners.

And Will’s mind was Blocked, and there was no way for him to reach Riley, and Kolovi was leaning over the table now, tilting Riley’s head up by the chin. He was _touching her_ , and he was speaking, and his eyes gleamed with a madness that made Will want to lunge through the wall and make him pay.

“Riley!” Will punched the mirror again. A sharp pain shot up his arm as the skin on his knuckles broke, smearing blood against the glass, the friction tearing at his flesh. “ _Riley!_ ”

*

**_7:13 PM, Streets of London_ ** _(Dani, Felix)_

The street became a blur as Dani and Felix sped down the streets of Soho, trying to outrun the two vans filled with guards and Bolgers. From the side mirror, Dani counted three more BPO guards chasing them on motorcycles, blurs of black and silver dashing dangerously close to their car.

She turned back to the front just in time to see Felix slam his foot on the pedal, stopping their car abruptly. The seatbelt dug into her skin as she found herself yanked back to her seat, the back of her head slamming against the cushion. The street was cleared of other cars, and they’d been surrounded. The two vans blocked the entire road in front of them. Behind them, the new arrivals were hopping off their motorcycles.

Felix unbuckled his seat belt.

“Are you crazy?!” she yelled, ignoring the dizziness in her head from the impact of the sudden stop. “Felix, they’ll kill you!”

“They got guns. We need guns.” Felix opened the door. “And we’re trapped.”

Swearing, she unbuckled her seatbelt and followed him out. She wasn’t about to let him die on her watch. She got around the back of the car just in time to see Felix wrestle a guard for his gun. And he was _losing_. 

Two more guards jumped on top of them, crushing Felix against the ground. With a growl, Dani ran forward and launched a deadly kick at the guard on top. She may not have been wearing heels tonight, but the toes of her red leather flats were capped with metal tips.

Clearly, her attack was unexpected. She heard footsteps and deduced that, yes, they were totally fucked, because something like a dozen guards just got off from the BPO vans. She aimed another kick at the ribs of the second guy who was on top of Felix and currently pounding on his face like it was a punching bag. When the guard rolled off clutching his chest, she gave herself two seconds to smirk before she aimed her foot at the underarm of the third guard.

Felix stuck out a hand, and she grabbed it and pulled him out as the remaining guy was about to punch him in the face. Instead, the guard’s fist collided with the concrete, and in his distraction, Felix snatched the guard’s gun from his other hand and finished off the two Dani had pried off him. 

Dani picked up the gun of the other guards lying dead before their blood could soak the handle, ignoring the shudder that ran through her spine at the sight of the fresh corpses. She turned to see where the other guards were and saw someone about to fire at them. 

“Felix, look out!” 

She pulled Felix down. The bullet pierced through the back of their stolen car, and the oil started leaking. 

They shuffled away from the oil and fired back. Felix pulled open the back door of the car for cover. They moved behind it, hoping it’d stop the bullets. She pushed the button that rolled the window down and peeked one of her stolen guns over the gap to shoot.

“Behind us!” Felix turned around and fire at more guards, shuffling sideways until he was back-to-back with Dani as he hollered profanities in German.

A few guards charged forward, threatening to break down their car door shield. Dani yelped, but before the guards could reach her and Felix, they were shot from behind. The new round of BPO guards tackled their dying colleagues to the ground.

What?

Oh.

“We’re with you!” one of them shouted. “Go! Go!”

The Veracity-appointed guards used their former colleagues as shields against oncoming bullets as they continued to fire. But they were outnumbered, as much as Dani and Felix tried to help them. In a matter of seconds, everyone was down. 

Now that the area around them looked clear, Dani turned back and met Felix’s eyes. With a nod, they stood up and moved away from their door. A guard they’d missed charged at them from behind, but Felix whipped around and shot them before they could fire.

But they didn’t get everyone.

Four remaining guards ran into the back of the two (apparently bulletproof) vans with the Bolgers inside and slammed the doors shut. The vans took off again — Dani wasn’t even aware the drivers remained behind the wheels, ready to go. Through the loudspeaker, she heard one driver say, “W-C-two is go.”

Felix attempted to shoot at the wheels of the retreating vans, but the drivers drove in zig-zags and deftly avoided his shots. The vans sped away before Dani and Felix could chase them down. They ran back to their stolen car without conferring with each other, because what else would they have done? 

The rev of a motorcycle engine nearby took them by surprise.

A bullet swished past the side of Dani’s arm, too close to her skin for comfort, and next thing she knew, Felix had knocked the guard off his motorcycle, plucked the helmet from his head, and hopped on. Dani finished the guard off before he could get up. 

“Hop on,” said Felix, handing her the helmet. His Hazmat suit looked clunky against the seat of the motorcycle. Like he could tell what she was thinking, he zipped it off and threw away the mask, revealing his original jeans-and-Hawaiian-shirt ensemble.

She climbed onto the seat behind him after taking off her own suit. Thank God. She was getting hot. “There’s only one helmet?”

He turned around and put it over her head, fastening it below her chin. “You have it. We can’t draw the paparazzi’s attention tonight.”

With a roll of her eyes — not that he could see — Dani wrapped her arms around Felix’s waist. “Fine. You know how to ride this thing?”

Felix laughed. “Please, Dani, I’m a professional motorcyclist.”

“Sure you are.”

He took off before she could prepare herself for what was coming, speeding through the streets, whooping in an unabashed pre-victory celebration sort of way. The wind soared by Dani’s ears, and her teeth chattered as the cold made its way through her thin jacket. She clung on tight behind Felix, hoping his body heat was enough to keep her from freezing straight up. Maybe the Hazmat suit was good for something, but too late now.

At the intersection, Felix stopped.

“Are you seriously stopping for a red light?” she asked, incredulous. “Felix, we’re in the middle of a car chase here?”

“Uhh, where the fuck are we even going?”

“Huh.” She frowned, lifting the visor of her helmet so they could see eye to eye. “Oh! The driver said something about a W-C-two before they took off.”

“How the fuck do you remember these things?”

She shrugged, feeling a smug grin creeping up her face. “I’m an actress, Felix. How do you think I remember my lines?”

“So this W-C-two,” he said, impressed, “any idea what this is?”

“W-C-two…” she muttered. “Wait. Zip codes.”

“Zip codes?”

“Yeah! Don’t they have this weird letters-and-numbers system here?” she recalled. When they were making their ways to the Manchester safe house, they’d been given an address along with a zip code. “The letters stand for something.”

Felix whipped out a phone in the back pocket of his jeans and turned it on. Dani was surprised he kept one around. She was pretty sure hers was sitting at the bottom of her trunk. She hadn’t used it since Lito had told her they could be traced.

“You’re a genius, Dani.”

“I know.” She stood up and peeked over Felix’s shoulder. “So? Where’s WC2?”

He showed her the map he pulled up from Google. “Leicester Square.”

*

**_7:19 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2_ ** _(Mavis, Amanita, Miki)_

Eleven minutes wasn’t enough time for Mavis, Amanita, and Miki to find anyone. 

They’d only finished searching the south wing of LL3, the place where the light had been on when Mavis and Miki had last stumbled upon this place with Riley and Genevieve. They’d opened every room — with Bug’s help, no doubt, since the electronic pads on the locks in this wing had miraculously shut themselves off. But no luck.

“You can’t find them anywhere, Bug?” Amanita whispered. They made their ways back to the stairwell, hoping to reach LL2 again before the Headhunters were due to arrive.

Mavis and Miki looked at her in question. Amanita shook her head. “He said all the cameras are off. Someone must’ve been tampering with the security in the building.”

“Yeah.” Mavis groaned, dejected. “They’ve got hackers too.” 

They climbed up the steps, hands over their pockets where they’d put their guns in a half-hearted attempt to conceal them. If they couldn’t find Nomi and the others — _for now_ — it was time for their backup plan.

Thankfully they got a room to themselves. The other twelve Hazsuits were preparing the six other rooms about to be used. Six Headhunters, plus the one in the room they were in charge of setting up. Seven. How many Bolgers _were_ there?

Amanita shut the door behind them after checking to see the hallway was clear. “Got any idea how to set up this thing?”

“I know how to _sabotage_ this thing,” Mavis answered, lifting the back cover of the monitor connected to the EEG machine. She took out the switchblade tucked in her boots and hacked the wires until they were all disconnected before putting the cover back. 

Miki hummed, approving. “What are we gonna say when the Headhunter comes?”

Mavis thought about it. “I’d say we just cut to the chase. Point our guns, force them against a wall, ask questions -”

Someone knocked on their door. Mavis froze for a second before she pointed at the wall socket where the plugs to the machines were. Amanita and Miki went over and pretended to check the connectivity. Mavis opened the door, bracing herself for her not-Mavis voice.

“We’re here to confirm if -”

“Wait.” Mavis walked closer and looked at the blue tag on the woman’s suit. _Watson_. And her voice sounded familiar. Her partner, who stood behind her, hadn’t spoken, but she had the same tag on her suit. And from what Mavis could tell, the two of them looked identical in size. “Leslie? And -” she turned to the other person - “Layla?”

“How do you know our… wait, Mavis?” Leslie came inside with her twin sister and shut the door behind them. “Is that you?”

Mavis could make out Amanita and Mavis watching them carefully. She kept her guard up, too, just in case it was two impostors who had stolen the twins’ tags. The three of them put their hands on their masks at the same time and lifted on the count of three. Two identical faces greeted Mavis with relieved smiles, which she returned. Finally, some friendly faces.

“Do we wanna know what you’re doing here?’” Layla spoke up.

Leslie walked over to examine the EEG machine. “You cut the wires? Typical.”

“You know each other?” asked Amanita, lifting her own mask.

“Yup. Friends from Veracity.” Mavis turned to the twins. “We’re looking for our friends.”

“Oh, some guards brought prisoners to lower level three,” said Layla.

“You sure?” asked Mavis.

“We saw them on our way to LL4 an hour ago. They could’ve been moved,” said Leslie.

LL4? The storage rooms? So they _were_ gonna use the Bolgers.

It didn’t take a detective to figure out what. 

“Did you see where in lower level three?” asked Amanita.

“We couldn’t stay there,” said the twins together. Spooky, usually, but now Mavis was too relieved to care. 

“They’d have suspected us if we followed,” Leslie continued. “But I saw them going down the east wing.”

“Right. LL3, east wing… That narrows it down.” Mavis put her mask back on. 

Amanita and Miki came over to her. “We should find them,” said Miki. “But what about the Headhunters -”

“We’re on it,” said Layla, lowering her mask along with her sister. She patted the pocket of her suit. “We’ve been preparing for this since the last attack.”

“Great.” Mavis checked through the little window on the door and made sure the hallway was clear. “Be careful, you guys. The Headhunter might be armed too.”

“You too,” said Leslie, before they went out. “Good luck.”

*

**_7:27 PM, BPO, Lower Level 3, East Wing_ ** _(Riley, Genevieve)_

There was no trace of Will in Riley’s mind.

She closed her eyes and pretended Professor Kolovi wasn’t smiling at her from across the table. It was easier to concentrate on the voices in her head when she could block the distractions from her eyes, but right now all her mind detected was more silence. 

“Let us go,” Genevieve growled, also waking up. “You nasty, motherfuckin’ -”

“I would watch the language if I were you, Miss - I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” asked Kolovi, calm as ever. 

“ _Cúl Tóna_ ,” Genevieve insulted under her breath.

Riley opened her eyes again, feeling the stinging bright lights in the room. Kolovi sat there in a suit like he was here on business. Like he wasn’t sitting in front of two prisoners, ready to send them to their deaths. Genevieve’s mind was Blocked. Riley wondered why they had bothered to keep her mind open when there was no one she could answer to.

“Ahh. Miss Blue.”

Genevieve lurched forward in her chair, which was nailed to the ground, thrashing against the ropes binding her body. “Let. Us. Go -”

“Leaving so soon?” Kolovi glanced down at his watch. “But it’s only 7:27. Pity. You’ve been here for half an hour. And we still need to talk.”

Someone was going to find her soon, Riley knew. Or so she hoped. She’d been inside here last time, and while there may have been many rooms, it wouldn’t take her allies all night to find them in LL3. Unless everyone else was -

“You can spare me some time by telling me where the others are,” said Kolovi. His eyes gleamed with something malicious, something that reminded Riley of Jacks. 

Riley swallowed and tried to keep herself from flinching. “We don’t know where they are.”

And that was the truth. She was surprised at how calm she sounded, but she clutched one hand with the other behind her back, trying to keep herself from shaking. The ropes burned her wrists. It hurt when she tried to move her arms, and she didn’t want to imagine what kind of bruises were forming.

“Joke’s on you, Professor Fuckhead.” Genevieve snorted.

Kolovi looked unfazed. “I wish to keep your cluster alive,” he said. “Both your clusters. But if you do not cooperate and the Headhunters get to them first, well -”

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Kind of you to make that offer, _professor_.”

“If you hand yourselves over to me, I can guarantee you will not be killed. In return, you will be subjects for my experiment.”

So he wanted to study them like they were samples he could spare. Riley had a feeling he wanted to have control over them and try to uncover their secrets. But once his experiments were complete, he’d have no use for them. 

If his lecture was anything to go by, his intentions were geared towards genocide. What the _sapiens_ did to _Homo asiaticus_ and _naledi_ , he wanted to do to _Homo sensorium._

What would Will say?

“If you just wanted to experiment on us, why did you kidnap us?” asked Riley.

“I can see why you wouldn’t trust me. You can let your sapien allies stay with you,” Kolovi offered. “To ensure you’re not harmed during the experiments. Once I collect my data, you’re free to go.”

“Free to go like one of your zombie soldiers?” asked Genevieve. “No frontal lobes intact?”

“All I want is to examine the way members of a cluster interact with one another.”

“You can’t do that when we’re free?” Riley asked. The anger in her voice was replaced by an unrecognizable bitterness. “We don’t want anything to do with this organization.”

“I can assure you, Miss Blue, the Chairman and I have very different intentions when it comes to your kind.”

Something about his feigned ignorance gave Riley an untimely sense of satisfaction. “The Chairman? You mean Veronika?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Riley didn’t need Lito to tell Kolovi was lying. Genevieve snorted at his lackluster effort. “You’re the Secretary. You should know,” Riley said. “You’ve been on the phone with Will before. I never forget a voice.”

“So what if I am?” He didn’t deny it, which, in his case, was pretty much a confirmation.

“You work with Veronika. And she wants us dead,” Riley pointed out.

“We have negotiated the conditions for keeping your cluster alive. She’s interested in my experiments. And for that, I will need the largest cluster I can gather.”

“ _Negotiating the conditions_ for keeping them alive?” Genevieve’s nostril flared. She thrashed in her chair again, trying desperately to loosen her binds. But they wouldn’t budge. She took a deep breath. “Is that why you were out hunting for them like a pack of fuckin’ wolves?”

“Veronika captured Wolfgang so they could track down the rest of his cluster to use as samples,” he told them matter-of-factly. “She told me so herself.”

It was so naïve of the man to believe Veronika cared enough about anthropology to preserve a sample of Riley’s kind. All she cared about was eliminating threats. Wolfgang’s memory of her with his mother confirmed that much.

“Veronika lied,” Riley told him. “She’ll kill us. Starting with Wolfgang.”

From the acting lessons Lito gave them, Riley could tell Kolovi was trying to hide his surprise. “Why Wolfgang?” he asked, pretending like he was humoring her.

Her courage came out of nowhere, but as Professor had not anticipated the Russian’s betrayal, Riley could tell him the truth now and watch him wrestle with his denial. In twenty minutes or so, Lito and the others would arrive on a helicopter, while Kala and company took down Veronika. Both helicopters were in touch with Bug. By now, they would have devised a plan.

Soon, it would be over for everyone including Professor Kolovi.

“Because Veronika is his aunt,” Riley said slowly, enunciating every word. “And Wolfgang’s mother ruined her life.”

*

**_7:29 PM, Leicester Square_ ** _(Felix, Dani)_

Felix hid around the corner of a building with Dani, relying on the shadows to keep them out of sight. Attackers like these zombie soldiers were usually tucked out of sight until go time, taking people by surprise. And it seemed fucked up to Felix that he could reason out all this: he’d gone on raids with Wolfie whenever his brother needed help on a family job, and they did the same hiding thing with Sergei’s business competitors.

But those people they killed back then were scum. And the people here, spending a fun evening by the fountain in the middle of the square, were innocent. And it wasn’t like Felix could just go out and shout, “you’re all gonna die, get out!”

“Hey, is that Sun and Detective Mun?” Dani whispered, peeking over his shoulder.

He turned to see where she was pointing, and sure enough, two figures on a motorcycle stopped on the other end of the square. They took off their helmets. _Yes!_ Bug must’ve sent them over. He reminded himself to thank the guy later — they’d have a chance to stay alive if these two were there to help out.

But there was no time to call them over before the first zombie soldier marched onto the square and pulled out a gun.

They dashed forward. Before Felix could take out the stolen guns from his pocket, Dani had fired, straight through the soldier’s head. The zombie crumpled to the ground in a heap of death and skin and bones, and then Dani was pulling Felix down by the collar of his shirt as a bullet flew past where his head was moments ago.

People were screaming, and Felix and Dani crouched behind a set of drums, left behind by the musician who was playing with his band moments ago. The minimal protection was, at least, enough to keep them from being trampled by the crowd pushing their ways out. Judging by the sound of gunshots, not everyone was lucky to escape.

When the crowd thinned, Dani reached for his hand and pulled him up, squeezing it tightly as she whipped her head around to see where Sun and Mun could be. They were on the other side of the fountain, wrestling with a zombie each, trying to grab their guns from their hands. A third marched over to them — a zombie, he could tell by the aggressive way she was moving forward. 

Felix ran over and knocked her down with one unexpected punch. The zombie lifted her arm to fire at him, but the gun was knocked out of her hand when Dani shot her finger clean off ( _holy fuck_ , her _finger_ , what an aim!) before embedding another bullet through her temple. Felix heard two more gunshots — Sun and Mun had taken care of their opponents just fine.

Fuck. Four down. Who knew how many more to go?

A child’s scream grabbed his attention, and he turned to the source of the sound — right in front of the movie theater — but was too late to stop the zombie from shooting down the girl’s mom, who was shielding her daughter as they tried to run away from the guy chasing them down. Dani yelled out a string of profanities in Spanish that got Felix’s blood pumping before she fired three bullets at the scum who murdered the girl’s parent.

More screaming came from behind them. Felix and Dani turned and saw two zombies with two guns each, firing at the confused people who had come out of the shops and restaurants and movie theaters around the square to see what the commotion was about. Some cops showed up, too, and they tried to keep others from coming out of the building, shouting “it’s a shooting, go back inside _now_!” at the top of their lungs as they barred the doors.

One cop, who was trying to lock up the door of a restaurant from the outside, was shot dead by a zombie. The zombie yanked the door open and fired into the restaurant, where people hid underneath tables and behind booths. Felix ran over and was about to shoot when the zombie turned around with a hostage acting as his body shield, pointing her gun at the victim woman’s temple.

In the periphery of Felix’s vision, he saw Dani hiding by the wall next to the double-door entrance, one Glock left in her hand, her other arm wrapped around the shoulder of the little girl she’d just saved. She looked at the Glock clutched in Felix’s hand, mouthing _drop it_.

So he did. He dropped his gun and raised his hand in surrender. The zombie was frozen for a few seconds, and Felix wondered if maybe one of Wolfie’s psychic friends were fighting with the Headhunter who was controlling her. Dani stepped out of hiding and fired at the zombie’s hand to make her drop the gun. The zombie jolted back to motion after being shot, (fuck, he hoped whoever fought the Headhunter back in BPO wasn’t dead) and threw her hostage to the ground to lunge at Dani, who promptly shot her in the head.

Felix turned around to see three more zombies running for this restaurant. Sun and Mun weren’t chasing after them, and Felix could only assume they were busy with their own targets. “Dani!” he shouted. “Behind us!”

She ran out of the restaurant and pulled the sobbing little girl behind her. Felix aimed at a zombie and fired at what he hoped was his heart. He watched the zombie go down before running zig-zag around the place, dodging the aim of the zombie’s companions. He could only hope Dani was doing the same, but right now he couldn’t spare a glance because two more zombies marched over. _Fuck_.

The old Felix would have gawked at the sight of him now, standing guard in front of a restaurant full of people who could be on the receiving end of the zombies’ bullets. But he ignored the voice in his head screaming for him to run the fuck out of there. Then, to his surprise, one of the follow-up zombies shot at the first guy who was aiming for Felix. Another zombie started a wrestling match with the traitor zombie.

What the actual -

“Felix!” Dani’s voice had him whipping his head around. 

The little girl was crouching behind a chair in the outdoors area of the restaurant, and Dani was standing guard in front of the kid. Another zombie was marching up to her now, tossing his emptied gun aside. She aimed to fire at his head as he was a mere ten meters or so in front of her, but when she pulled her trigger, no bullets came out.

Fuck!

Felix saw the gun-less zombie pull an army knife from his pocket the same time the little girl tried to make a run for safety from her hiding spot near Dani. Dani turned her gaze away from the approaching zombie to pull the girl back.

In her momentary distraction, the zombie had marched over to her, army knife in hand. Felix ran over and pushed Dani back as the zombie reached forward to slash the blade over Dani, blocking her from the hit. A sharp pain shot through Felix’s right shoulder, where a nasty gash was forming.

Before Dani could shoot the zombie, the zombie had cocked his arm back and stabbed the blade into Felix’s flesh, somewhere near his already-bleeding cut.

Detective Mun marched over and finished off the zombie. Felix gritted his teeth and clutched his hand over the stab wound, never mind that the blade was embedded there, cutting the skin between two of his fingers. He fell and slumped against the back of another chair. His blood felt warm to the touch as they slipped between his fingers. He wished he could move his hand away — his fingers hurt from the blade cutting into him, the blade that felt like it was sinking deeper into him.

He gritted his teeth and moaned and willed himself to keep pressing his hand to the wound and keep the blade in. It was the… the best way to… to stop the blood from all flow… flowing out at once…

But his arm was tired. So tired. And it was falling limp and growing cold and he didn’t think he could hold on much longer.

The sound of the ambulance sirens and Dani’s screaming and Sun and Detective Mun’s voices were far away, but he squinted and tried to read their lips and see what they were saying, but their faces became a blur. No one was shaking him by the shoulder but Sun was slapping on his cheeks to get his attention and she was mouthing something and Dani was staring into his eyes and it looked like she was pleading. Pleading for what? 

Felix’s eyelids grew heavy as he was brought onto a stretcher, and it was cold against his back, and someone was prying his hand… his hand away from his shoulder with the… with the blade… and… and wrapping something over the cut, the cut, and the blade’s gone now, but it stung, it stung so, so fucking much. He moaned. 

And then he was… he was… where was he? It was so bright. Too bright. In the back of the ambulance? And Dani… Was it Dani? Of course it was her. She had climbed into the ambulance too and she, she was holding his hand and… and they were moving away from… away from…

Away.

*

**_7:29 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2, North Wing_ ** _(Kiira, Leon)_

Ideally, Kiira would be connected to Mavis. Capheus. Any of her allies. But based on her most recent attempt, she concluded their minds were all Blocked.

Except for Riley. Though, by the looks of Riley’s surroundings, she had gotten herself locked up in an interrogation room in LL3 with Genevieve and that professor on the news who advocated for genetic testing. Kolovi?

Riley gave Kiira a reassuring smile, as much as she could without drawing the Professor’s attention to an invisible visitor. Kiira gave her a nod in return. _They’ll find us._

Leon woke up mumbling a string of curses in a mix of English and languages Kiira couldn’t decipher as he stirred in his recliner seat. She was vaguely aware of her own hands and feet, bound to a piece of leather furniture by ropes. Struggling would not have loosened them. Besides, with Pelzer watching, it would be difficult to make a break for the makeshift prison.

“You’re awake,” said the Headhunter, his smile twisting his scar. If only Kiira had a scalpel on her like last time…

“Clearly,” she retorted, rolling her eyes like she imagined Mavis would have done.

“Got a job for us, have ya?” Leon turned his head left and right. 

Kiira followed his gaze and saw two machines in the experiment room. Not the EEG cap she wore last time. This had to be the Traceworks machine.

She tried to sound bored. “Let me guess, the Reciphorum?”

Pelzer didn’t say anything, but he reached for a syringe on the table nearby, one filled with a neon green liquid. The injection wouldn’t have been necessary if they were asked to command Bolgers, and as most of her allies’ minds were still Blocked, the only explanation left was that she and Leon would be the catalyst for a kidnapping.

She couldn’t feel Pelzer’s presence in her mind, but she didn’t want to risk thinking about whether any of her allies could find them. Lito and Hernando and María were on their ways over with two people from Lila’s cluster. If all went well, no one in BPO would anticipate them coming. But since Kiira was here with Pelzer now, she might as well try and find out the details of the plan.

“Doesn’t your mind have to be open too?” she asked the Headhunter. “I was told that’s how you detect the signals from other minds. Through mine.”

“We’re biding our time,” he said stiffly.

“I can’t feel your mind at all.” Kiira pretended to scrunch up her brows like she was making an effort to try and pry into his memories. “You can’t be too close to your dosage wearing off. Are we going to wait here for an hour?”

The Headhunter didn’t dignify that with a response. But Kiira cocked her head back and saw a clock on the wall, the hands pointing at roughly 7:30. When she listened carefully, she could tell it was still ticking.

After 8 o’clock, then. Sometime around there. 

And there was no way to counter the effects of the Reciphorum as far as Kiira knew. And if like last time in the Paris farmer’s market, the same drug was administered in one public space, it wouldn’t take long for BPO to find the victims.

Her only hope now was that someone would be here to get her and Leon out before then.

Pelzer turned off all the lights in the room.

“Why’d you do that for?” asked Leon, pretending to be only irritated. 

Kiira could hear the worry in his voice, and for a good reason, too. How else would the others have been able to find them if not for the sign of lights in the room?

All Pelzer gave in response was a grunt.

“Help!” Kiira shouted. 

She heard the Headhunter give a startle, before he marched his way over, shoes thumping against the tiles on the ground. 

He put a hand over her mouth, pushing her head against the recliner seat with bruise-inducing brutality. “I’ll have you know,” he growled, closer to her ear. The hair stood up on Kiira’s arms. “These rooms are all soundproof. And we’ve turned off the cameras, so don’t count on your hacker friends to get you out.”

_Help_ , Kiira thought, hoping someone would hear her in their mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a million thanks to my beta @LettersfromLaika! Honestly, she had saved my overly dramatic ass so many times on this chapter, last chapter, as well as the next two. *HUGS!*
> 
> * * *
> 
> So now we see what happened to Will and Kiira and Leon. And poor Riley and Genevieve's got themselves into quite a pickle, too. And then there's Felix, Dani's poor knight in Hawaiian-shirted armor. 
> 
> But what happened to poor Nomi? And how will Lito and company land and come to the rescue? Will Kalagang blast into Veronika's office with a sneering Lila and Marcela in tow and put an end to every sensate's misery?
> 
> Stay tuned to the next chapter, which, if all goes well, should be **out on Fridayyyyyy**! Whoo!
> 
> Did you all appreciate my little dose of Verner? No? You wanna throw something at me instead? Well, I'll show myself out. I am in no mood to receive metaphorical projectiles launched at my face, thank you very much.


	35. It’s not the drugs that make a drug addict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the free come to the rescue, and the trapped attempt to break free.
> 
> “In Iceland, we have a saying that it’s not the drugs that make a drug addict, it’s the need to escape reality."  
> — From S1E6, “Demons”
> 
> **See endnotes for trigger warning(s).**

******_7:42 PM, Streets of London to BPO_ ** _(Sun, Mun, Mavis, Amanita, Miki)_

As soon as Felix and Dani left in the ambulance, Sun and Kwon-Ho jumped on a motorcycle and headed back to BPO to help the others. Sun didn’t want to think about what would happen to Felix. _He’d be okay,_ she tried to convince herself. She focused on suppressing shivers as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

They zipped through the rush hour London traffic, wholly ignoring red traffic lights. It took five minutes and the sound of police sirens behind them for Sun to remember she didn’t know Kwon-Ho could ride a motorcycle.

Sun found it hard to believe this detective was now running _from_ the police. She leaned her head against his back, mindful of how warm he felt. If she paid enough attention, she could feel his heartbeats. They didn’t have a helmet, and while she’d been reluctant about the physical contact initially, now was hardly the time to argue.

Kwon-Ho wasn’t used to killing in cold blood, she knew. Sun imagined he’d had to shoot criminals when he was on the job, but this was different. She and her cluster had made sure the detective understood the Bolgers weren’t in control of their actions, but this had no doubt made killing them harder. Still, Sun felt like she owed him the truth, at least. And she hadn’t found a reason to regret trusting him. He was, after all, handy with a gun.

This did nothing to change Sun’s perception of the world’s justice system, but she had accepted that Detective Kwon-Ho Mun was an exception.

The employees’ entrance was already unlocked when they snuck back into the Parliament facility. Sun muttered a small thanks to Bug without thinking. To her surprise, he replied. Somehow, miraculously, the Bluetooth communication device was still hooked onto her ear. 

In the dressing room, Sun and Kwon-hO shed their blood-stained clothes and hid them away in an unoccupied corner locker before putting on another set of Hazmat, the last two suits out of four on the rack. Based on the number of suited individuals Sun saw in the building tonight, she was surprised there were any left at all

Though now wasn’t the time to speculate what it meant that they needed so many of these anti-contamination gears. So they made their ways down to LL3 (thankfully uninterrupted) and emerged from the stairwell in the back of the east wing to find three more suited figures running by in a suspicious hurry.

“ _Psst_ , hey,” Kwon-Ho whispered, catching up with the three people. Sun followed close behind him.

One of the figures stopped and looked back. “Sun? Mun?” whispered Amanita’s voice. 

“We stopped the attack,” Sun explained, gesturing for all of them to keep walking in case someone saw them and got suspicious. “I thought you were upstairs waiting for the Headhunters to show up?”

“Some of my allies saw people bring prisoners down here,” said Mavis.

Sun sighed, once again reminded of the fact that they had already lost four.

“What about the Headhunters?” asked Kwon-Ho.

“I’m sure my allies took care of them,” said Mavis. “And we’ve searched the back of this wing. They shouldn’t be -”

Two more figures in Hazmat suits passed by. They spoke in hushed whispers, and one asked the other if there was anyone suspicious-looking. Mavis stopped talking abruptly and pretended to be very interested in unlocking the door nearest to her. Sun and the others kept walking forward like they were doing inspections.

Thankfully the Hazsuits passed by without much hassle and left by the back stairs. Sun and the others doubled back to Mavis again. “They shouldn’t be too hard to find,” she finished.

“Let’s stick together,” said Kwon-Ho.

A few corners away, an elevator door opened with a _ding_. Voices and footsteps drew closer. Sun looked around and located another janitor’s closet, and they huddled inside just before _sapiens_ in suits rounded the corner to walk down this hallway. They peeked through the door they left ajar and waited until the men were gone before they reemerged.

“ _Ugh_.” Miki put a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. “All this hiding’s gonna give a heart attack.”

“I can’t access cameras from any of the rooms,” came Bug’s voice. Sun jumped — she’d forgotten he was in contact with her again.

“Alright. New plan,” Sun decided. She told everyone what Bug just said. “We stick together, and we go through the rooms one by one. No more hiding. We cannot waste time.”

Kwon-Ho turned to her, and she was pretty sure he was smirking. “And if they suspect us?”

Sun curled her hands into fists again. “If there is a confrontation, we will fight them.”

*

**_7:48 PM, BPO, Rooftop_ ** _(Lito, Hernando, María, Henrik, Maitake, Ragnar)_

All was quiet on the rooftop of the BPO Parliament Facility. 

Lito frowned suspiciously. María turned to him and gave him the same dubious expression. They’d watched too many spy movies to believe this was normal. The rooftop couldn’t have been left unguarded. It should’ve been protected. Invisible trip wires, maybe?

Like the universe was thinking the same, a bullet thumped against the (thankfully bulletproof) window of their helicopter.

“Fuck. Over there!” María turned and pointed in the direction it came from. 

A guard ducked behind the glass dome in the center of the rooftop — a skylight. And there were three water towers. Lots of hiding places. _Fuck_.

How the fuck did they know - 

The Japanese man from Lila’s cluster ( _Maitake_ , he’d told them when they were flying across the English Channel) landed their helicopter. Lito looked around and located the door to the stairwell — their only way down.

They ran out of the helicopter.

Lito’s shaky hand clutched the handle of his gun. Was it normal for BPO to have security stationed up on the roof? Or did Veronika already know they were coming? What - how -

“We don’t normally ambush the roof!” María shouted.

Hernando let out a panicked squeal as he ran in zig-zag, making himself harder to aim for. They copied his move and ran for the door. Maitake and Ragnar, the pale blonde from Lila’s cluster, went first and diverted half the guards’ attention. They were apparently prepared to shoot and held their own in hand-to-hand combat.

“Also, there’s a failsafe on the roof!” María stepped in front of Hernando like a shield and fired at two guards running for them with calculated precision. They dropped like flies. “Some kind of explosion! Triggered by -”

“What the fuck?!” Lito blurted out before she could finish.

A guard came running towards Lito. Lito lowered himself to a crouching position for balance like Sun taught him. He grabbed the guard by the waist and shoved them aside before shooting them once in the ribs. He could make out Henrik doing the same with another guard a few paces away, blurting out curses in Dutch.

“It’s some kind of motion sensor!” María continued, “That’s all I know!” 

María grabbed Henrik’s hand and pulled him out of the way of as a bullet swished past. Lito ducked, too, just in case. It hit some kind of metal — possibly the helicopter.

Hernando was running over to Lito now. They exchanged a nod and held hands. They ran towards Maitake and Ragnar, who had broken through the dozen guards now lying on the ground and were now pushing the door to the stairs open. One guard got up and made a grab for Hernando, but he drew his arm back in time. Hernando freed his other hand from Lito’s clutch and, with a scream, punched the guy in the face, breaking his nose.

Lito allowed himself two seconds to acknowledge how fucking hot that was before he and Hernando ran for the door, mindful that María and Henrik were following close behind. María shot the guard Hernando punched for good measure. Before they went through the door, Hernando reached into his bag and took out a lava grenade — Lito had forgotten they had them — and threw it out. It landed dangerously close to their helicopter. 

The explosion wasn’t as colorful as the liquid looked in the tube, and Lito drew back instantly when he felt the simmering heat dispersing in the air. But no more guards came for them, and the ones who were alive didn’t look like they could get up. Plus, the helicopter looked… unburned. So they went inside.

“Good one.” María patted Hernando on the shoulder as the door closed behind them. 

Poor Hernando was in shock, and all he could do was nod as he shook his numb hand. Lito took the hand and kissed it.

The six of them looked at one another. “So,” Henrik started, tilting down his chin to look all of them in the eye, “now what?”

“They knew we were coming.” Hernando shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know how but - and Gina and Wolfgang and Kala -”

“Lito, _Lito_ ,” came a voice inside Lito’s ear. Bug’s voice. Lito had forgotten he had the Bluetooth device. There wasn’t any news when they were in the air, or maybe the signal was too faint up there. “Noms got caught,” Bug told him. “And Will, Riley, and Genevieve -”

Lito kicked the wall with his foot. “ _Fuck_.”

“What?” asked Henrik. Lito told them what Bug said.

“Lito, we need the lobotomy files for evidence,” Hernando said hoarsely, echoing his concern. “But we can get it later - I don’t know.”

“Sun and the Detective are coming back,” Bug told Lito, who told everyone else.

“Okay. I think they got the rescue part covered,” said María.

“We know where they keep the files.” Ragnar nodded at Maitake. He spoke English with a heavy accent Lito couldn’t place.

“Floors eleven to thirteen, yes,” Lito recalled. 

María looked at Lila’s cluster-mates. “Alright. You two can come with us.”

Henrik took a syringe filled with clear liquid out of his backpack. An anti-Blocker. Lito raised his eyebrow, and he shrugged. “Maybe not all of them’s Blocked?”

“Worth a try,” Lito agreed.

*

**_7:50 PM, London, Southwark_ ** _(Lila, Marcela, Kala, Wolfgang, Capheus, Gina)_

For the second time that night, Lila wished she wasn’t forced into an alliance with Wolfgang and his pretty little girlfriend. Fighting would have been a lot less complicated if it were just her and cluster. But, as Maitake had so kindly pointed out, their cluster was four people short, and Wolfgang had more allies she could use.

Veronika had known that August 8 cluster knew about the impending attack, of course. Lila and Ragnar had heard it through the device they’d planted in Veronika’s brooch. Veronika had lied to her employees, waited for the Archipelago spies to spread the false rumors, and changed her plan so she could catch them unprepared.

And, judging by the way Wolfgang and company exchanged uneasy glances with at each other while they were up in the air, Lila hated to admit it was working.

As their helicopter approached the rooftop of Veronika’s office building, Lila turned around and raised an eyebrow at her new companions. Wolfgang’s girlfriend ( _Kala_ , her mind unwillingly supplanted — she’d overheard someone calling her name while she was imprisoned in their basement) was clutching the straps of her backpack tightly, probably taking inventory of her weapons.

They landed without much hassle. Marcela looked out the window and scouted for ambushers as Lila lowered them onto the platform, but it would appear they were alone. Slowly, they exited the helicopter and made their ways down, careful to keep their footsteps from echoing in the stairwells. Lila and Marcela took the lead.

Lila stopped when they reached the next floor down. “Her office is here,” she whispered, turning back to face them.

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes. He was right to be suspicious, of course, but Lila still rolled her eyes and pushed the door open. Reluctantly they followed. From the corner of her eyes, Lila saw Kala reach into the side pocket of her bag for the Glock.

Lila led them to a long hallway with doors on both sides of the wall, offices Lila had never seen anyone use. When she looked down, she could see everyone’s reflections on the gray marble ground, which was impeccably dusted twice a day. At the end of the hall was a door larger than all the others — no way anyone could miss that.

“End of the hall,” Marcela muttered, nodding to the door.

Kala frowned and looked around. “It’s very quiet up here.”

“Veronika likes to be alone so she can scheme in silence.” Lila shrugged, annoyed that Kala had to choose now, of all times, to stop them in the middle of a raid.

Wolfgang, of course, took Kala’s side. “She has no guards?”

Lila tutted her tongue, scanning the corners of the walls for cameras. “Security’s downstairs. Not a lot of invaders have helicopters. Now hurry up unless you want them to catch us.”

Wolfgang’s other allies still looked unsure, but they walked on. Wolfgang’s cluster-mate and their other ally, whose name Lila couldn’t remember, positioned themselves in the middle of the hall to stand guard, pointing their guns to shoot at any guards who might come by. Following Marcela’s signal, the rest of them stood on either side of Veronika’s door, pressing their backs against the wall. Wolfgang put his hand on the door handle, and, with a nod from all of them, he pulled it open and pointed his Glock -

At an unoccupied office chair.

Lila heard two shrieks before she turned just in time to see the masked face of a security guard. The guard shot Lila with a taser. The barbs embedded themselves in her chest, and it felt like needles were jabbed inside her muscles, sending shivers of electrical pulses up her body. When the pain stopped, she barely had time to keep herself upright before someone cuffed her hands behind her back and tossed away her gun. 

Her knees hit the ground painfully, and her calves ached and trembled when she tried to stand again. Red dots flickered in and out of her vision when she moved her head, and she felt tears burning at the back of her eyes.

_How?_

A feeble glance to her side told Lila everyone else were fucked in the same way, especially the two other allies Wolfgang brought who’d taken the earliest bait. The doors on both sides of the hallway were open. Guards had been stationed there, hiding in all these rooms waiting for them to approach. Wolfgang, shielded by the rest of them, turned from where he stood in the office and shot one of the guards. 

But the damage had been done. Lila and the others couldn’t walk without wobbling, let alone try and snatch back their guns. Before Wolfgang could fire again, Lila heard him get tackled from behind, and then he was grunting, resisting against the electricity coursing through the taser that someone had no doubt pulled on him. Someone must have been hiding somewhere inside Veronika’s office, too. 

 _Fuck_.

They had been stealthy enough, and up until they reached the door, they paid enough attention to their surroundings to ensure no one was following them. But in the three seconds’ distraction, as they readied themselves to gang up on Veronika, the guards had snuck up on them.

“Impressive.”

Veronika walked down the hallway, her heels clicking against the marble without care.

Lila clenched her teeth to keep her voice from shaking. She took a deep breath, and regretted it immediately — it felt like someone was twisting a blade into her chest. “I thought you’d be in your office -”

“I knew you were eavesdropping, Lila,” Veronika interrupted. “I suspected something was off when you and Ragnar surrendered yourselves.”

“Have you known all along?” Marcela’s voice conveyed no emotions. Even now, Lila wondered how she managed to hide her fear so well.

“It took me a few days,” Veronika admitted, walking closer. “But I found your little device eventually. I’ve never parted with _this_ -” she flashed the dagger brooch on the collar of the trench coat she wore, the silver glistening against the fluorescent lights in the hall - “for more than a night or two. You think I wouldn’t notice it was replaced?”

She stopped in front of Kala and smiled. Lila knew that smile. It was a slight twitch of the corners of her mouth, one that always made Lila’s hands go cold. Kala, to her credit, was glaring defiantly at Veronika. 

Veronika reached forward and stroked Kala’s chin, her red manicured nails scratching her skin. Kala blinked, likely trying her best not to flinch. “Ahh, yes. Mrs. Kala Rasal,” she taunted. “We meet at last.”

Kala looked like she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue. 

“Leave her alone,” Wolfgang said dangerously.

Wolfgang thrashed to try and break the guards’ hold on his shoulders. He had been forced to kneel on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back, and the communication device on his ear was now lying broken on the floor nearby. A guard had obviously stepped on it. Two guards were forcing him down. The man kneeling next to him, Wolfgang’s other cluster-mate, attempted to do the same.

This made Veronika laugh, but she obliged. “As you wish, Wolfgang. I’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with her later.” She stepped aside to look at the other ally who came with Wolfgang’s cluster. “And _you_. I’m sure we’ll be able to find your cluster soon enough.”

Their ally didn’t dignify that with a response, but she looked away from Veronika and fixed her gaze on the floor. Her first raid, then. _But does that matter?_ said a treacherous voice in Lila’s head. It reminded her of Sebastian. _You’re all prisoners now._

The same voice reminded Lila that Kala turned out to be right. It _had_ been too quiet. Lila felt a tinge of jealousy at that, their current predicament be damned.

An elevator door opened some distance away, and Lila heard footsteps echoing down the hall before six guards appeared behind Veronika.

“Take them down to the vans,” Veronika ordered.

The guards in charge of Lila hoisted her up by the underarms and nudged her on the back, forcing her to move forward. She wanted to stand up and kick them in the shin, but that idea was abandoned when she realized her legs wobbled when she stood, the overwhelming numbness betraying any plans she had to escape.

“Where are you taking us?” Marcela asked as she shuffled forward with unstable steps.

Veronika turned to lead her guards to the elevators. “I’m sure your friends who are raiding my headquarters will be happy to see you.”

*

**_8:01 PM, BPO, LL 1_ ** _(Kala, Marcela, Lila)_

Kala, Lila, and an unconscious Marcela were brought to the parking garage in lower level one in the Parliament facility.

Kala exited the back of the van with Lila and Marcela. There were no other vans in sight. Wolfgang and Capheus and Gina were, by all likelihood, halfway out of the country by now. She shook her head and rid her mind of this possibility. BPO would want to keep them close if Wolfgang’s last torture session were any indication.

That thought was the opposite of comforting.

With their hands cuffed behind their backs and what seemed like a three-guards-per-person setup, it was impossible for Kala to break free. She was still wearing her backpack, which none of Veronika’s guards had had the chance to search through, but she’d kept the Glock in her side-pocket and taken it out in the fit of panic when she realized they’d been ambushed. Kala had never even got to pull the trigger before the Glock was knocked out of her hand.

But Kala had kept the syringes in the front pocket of her bag, and if she cocked her hands back as far as she could and reached up, she could likely reach the zipper. The guards were more preoccupied with dragging the half-conscious Marcela, anyway. Kala felt crushing hands gripping her shoulders and bodies standing too close to hers, but she and Lila were shoulder-to-shoulder. If only she could -

She hoped the guards weren’t paying attention to her hands. The handcuffs chafed her wrist, and she knew they’d leave bruises later, but she strained, and her finger reached the zipper and opened it slightly, enough to slip out one syringe and hide it in her sleeve. The needle had a rubber cap over it, which meant it was the anti-Blocker.

For once this evening, luck was on Kala’s side.

At first, Kala had wondered if Wolfgang could break free. The security guards must have had the same suspicion, because they had increased the voltage on their tasers and made sure he and Marcela, the assassin, didn’t have enough energy left to stand, let alone fight their ways out. Kala had screamed when Wolfgang collapsed to the ground, but a guard forced a strip of dirty fabric over her mouth and pulled her away before they did the same to Lila.

The security guards nudged her forward, and she and Lila trudged into the open elevator.

Lito’s helicopter should have landed by now, Kala estimated. And everyone on that helicopter was all Blocked, per their agreement. Maybe Lila’s cluster-mates had used her anti-Blocker after they got inside. Lito would have been more reluctant to give himself the antidote, given his connection to Pelzer — after all, it was Kala’s cluster that BPO targeted, much more than Lila’s.

Kala pushed off the rubber cap on the syringe with her finger as the elevator closed. The sound of the cap landing on the floor was drowned out by the slight creak of the elevator door. Her best bet was to inject Lila and hope this leap of faith wouldn’t doom them all.

She forced her mind away from the image of Wolfgang choking on his own blood, and bumped gently against Lila, trying to see where her hands were. Lila glared. Kala’s hand grazed against Lila’s skin — thankfully, Lila had worn some kind of black tank top and left her arms exposed.

Their elevator stopped at lower level two, the level with the experiment rooms. If they walked out and put more space between them, the guards might notice the movements of her hands. Now was her best (and possibly only) chance.

Kala locked eyes with Lila and gave her a look. _For the sake of Ganesha,_ she begged in her mind, _don’t react._ She jabbed the syringe into Lila’s arm and pushed the liquid inside. Lila swallowed back a hiss, the fabric around her mouth bobbing as her lips twitched, but before the guards could notice what was happening, she turned away and looked the nearest guard in the eye, channeling a death glare to ward off suspicion.

Kala used this opportunity to hide the now-empty syringe back into her sleeve.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” the guard growled. He forced Lila to turn her head away from him with a rough hand on her cheek.

Lila scoffed under the gag over her mouth. She kept her eyes looking forward as they exited the elevator, Marcela in tow behind them. Lila tried to thrash and break herself free again, but two more guards came up from behind them and grabbed her before she could succeed. Ten steps later, Lila caught Kala’s eyes and nodded.

Now all they could do was wait.

*

**_8:03 PM, BPO, 11th Floor_ ** _(Hernando, Lito, María, Henrik, Maitake, Ragnar)_

No matter how many times Hernando witnessed a sensate connection, he always found himself looking in the same direction the sensate in the room was watching, hoping to locate the visitor in question. 

Henrik's anti-Blocker kicked in, and he tensed and stood still for a few seconds, then declared Riley and Genevieve were trapped in an interrogation room. Lower level 3, Hernando recalled from Mavis’ crash course. Not LL2 like what BPO usually would have done with sensate prisoners, placing them in experiment rooms to use as test subjects.

The thought of BPO playing games with them brought a sick feeling to Hernando’s stomach. He took a deep breath and begged his heart to stop beating so fast.

“I’ll go down and find Sun and Mun,” Henrik volunteered. “Bring them up to speed.”

With Henrik headed off to the rescue, Lito and Lila’s cluster-mates debated un-Blocking themselves. Maitake volunteered himself for the injection, and a part of Hernando was relieved. Neither of Lila’s cluster-mates was connected to Headhunters. All their deals with BPO had been negotiated by Lila herself, and they were only present through their connection, so it made Maitake a much less dangerous target than Lito.

But there was a reason Lito’s cluster didn’t trust them, one Hernando had learned when they had taken the woman named Lila prisoner a while back. 

Though now wasn’t the time to argue, and Lito wanted to make sure his cluster was okay. A minute after Maitake was injected, he turned with a jerk of his head and stared at empty space. His eyebrows twitched in agitation before he nodded. Then he moved his gaze back to María. The visitor must have disappeared.

“They’re in trouble,” he said, his voice choppy. He started down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and beckoned them to follow. They walked down three stories and reached the 13th floor before Maitake stopped. “Guards took them to lower level two.”

“I’ll go -” Lito started. 

Hernando opened his mouth to protest, but María beat him to it. She caught Lito’s gaze and shook her head. “That’s what they wanna do, Lito. Baiting you all over.”

“But María, I can’t leave them there -”

“They don’t know where the German is,” Maitake interrupted. “Only your Indian friend’s with Lila and Marcela.”

Lito froze in the middle of his descent downstairs. “We have to -”

“ _We_ have to find them.” Ragnar’s voice was eerily calm when everything was falling into chaos. “ _You three_ get on with what you came for.”

Hernando couldn’t hear him very well just then. His head was filled with thoughts and voices, voices of people in Lito’s cluster, people he’d stayed with for over a month and come to care for. He imagined them with scars across their heads and felt sick.

“We’ll look for them after we get the files,” said Lito, determined, as he walked down two more flights of stairs. They were going to start at 11th floor and work their ways up to 13th. It would bring them closer to the roof by the time they had finished.

Ragnar and Maitake began their slow descent down to lower level two — they couldn’t risk the elevators in case Bug and other hackers were still fighting control for the surveillance footage there, but the stairwells had no cameras. With María in the lead and the little red light on the hallway camera turned off, their trek to the first room of archives was uneventful. BPO must have heard about the fight on the roof by now, and they were entirely conspicuous in their day clothes and very much running out of time.

Three rooms later, they stumbled upon a locked drawer full of neatly-packed plastic folders, the only locked drawer in the room. María pulled out two bobby pins from her hair and made quick work picking the lock. Without bracing himself, Hernando immediately reached in and pulled a folder out, opening it to reveal a stack of forms.

He saw photos of children and old people and middle-aged people and those who looked like they were just starting their lives as adults. Photos that were in perfect condition, mixed with makeshift printouts from grainy black and white photographs, even a few that looked like they’d been cut from ID photos, leaving only the silhouette of the subjects pinned to the top left corner of charts and notes filled with all their history.

Photos of what the lobotomized soldiers once were.

Hernando’s hands shook when he handed the folder to Lito, who shone his pocket flashlight over the printed letters and muttered out the names and dates and statuses, his voice growing faint with every new page. Dates when the subject was put into BPO’s care. Dates of the procedures. The results. _Failed. Failed. Failed…_

The second folder documented a few successful surgical attempts, some also marked by a stamp. _Employed. St Petersburg Attack._

It brought Hernando no comfort to know when these sensates had been made into unwilling vegetative pawns or brain dead corpses left for no one to claim. By the looks of the fading ink and the dusty paper, the world was unaware of the fates of these missing people. BPO owed their families the truth. They owed much more than that, but the rest, they could never make up for.

Lito was quiet when he sifted through them, and María did the same, their faint, shaky breaths reverberating around the room full of metal drawers.

“Is this all of it?” asked Lito, gesturing to the drawer they’d pulled out. His voice was thick.

María re-fastened the strap over the folder she was holding. “Should be most, if not all.” Her voice was shaky, too. “Should be enough evidence.”

Enough to send the high-ups in BPO to prison for life. Nothing else.

“Bug,” Lito whispered into the device hooked to his ear, “we found the files.” 

A moment later he reported that the cameras in this hallway were still disabled. And none were in this room like they’d suspected.

Lito met his eyes. “Hernando, if there’s any left, we can come back for them. We can get a warrant and search every room.”

“But what if they’re not here anymore? What if -”

“They’ll see what happened to these people -” Lito waved the two folders in his hands - “and they can draw their own conclusions.”

Hernando held out a hand and let Lito pull him up, taking the remaining three folders out before María replaced the drawer. None of them felt like speaking anymore, but María did stop before they opened the door to point out that, by now, BPO would be searching everywhere for the invaders from the rooftop. They had to be stealthy. Or move fast and try and outrun any guards chasing them down.

The former option was abandoned when guards emerged from the stairwells and blocked their only viable exit. A quick look behind him told Hernando more guards were rounding up on them from behind — not too many, but he didn’t have time to count _how_ many. They found themselves surrounded by the wall and the fence on the other side. The fence blocked the hallway from the hollow center of the building — the skylight that would shine from the glass dome on the roof all the way down to the atrium during the day. 

It would be a long fall.

María began firing bullets left and right before Hernando could remember to move from where he stood, frozen. And then they were all shooting, and Hernando’s fingers burned from the strain of pulling the trigger, his joints cracking with every shot. Hernando clutched the folders with his other arm, pressing them tightly against his chest like shields. Lito ditched his emptied gun altogether and lunged at one of the remaining guards, slamming him against the ground with a thud. 

Hernando barely had time to lower himself and slip from the grasp of another guard trying to catch him. He fell sideways on the floor. One lens of his glasses cracked when it hit the ground, and the folders were slipping. Before he could make a grab for them, he was pulled up by the shoulders. He prepared to stomp the person in the foot, but the person let go.

It was Sun. 

She emerged from behind him, yelled, and landed a swift kick at another guard’s midsection, sending him flying backwards. The guard fell, slid halfway down the hall on the marble floor, and didn’t get back up. Sun shoved the folders back into Hernando’s arms and threw another guard over the railing before Hernando realized they were there. When she finally stopped fighting, Hernando straightened his broken glasses and squinted, freezing in shock when he saw Detective Mun taking care of the last guard who wasn’t down.

Right then, Hernando couldn’t muster the energy to ask what Sun and the detective were doing there and how they’d found them at all. So he settled for what he hoped was a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Bug sent us,” Sun explained.

“Alright, that’s that taken care of,” said Detective Mun. He pushed the unconscious/dead guard away and hoisted himself up against the wall. “You should head back to the roof -” he pointed at the doors to the stairs - “before they could send guards. We’re out of bullets.” He tossed a presumably emptied gun from his back pocket onto the ground.

It occurred to Hernando then, never mind the rush they were in, that Sun and the detective didn’t really need any bullets.

“Go,” Sun said again, nudging Hernando forward. “All three of you.”

They obliged without another word and ran up the stairs as fast as their legs could carry, the folders with the incriminating files clutched tightly in their hands.

*

**_8:08 PM, BPO, Elevators_ ** _(Nomi, Capheus)_

The tightness of the space around Nomi made her heart beat twice as fast. 

Only a safety light was lit in the elevator, fixed to the corner. It still stung when Nomi had woken up and tried to open her eyes. The light shrouded the small space around her in a haunting blue glow. She was sitting on the ground, hands bound to the handle in the back with some kind of rope, and her shoulders strained in protest when she tried to scoot forward. If she stretched her legs out, she could almost touch the door.

There was no light on the control panel on her right, no number on the screen to show her how high up she was. No sign that the buttons below the screen were working at all. She was trapped. She shut her eyes and willed herself to take deep breaths.

“Hello, Nomi.”

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Whispers was sitting next to her. Whispers sat close enough for their shoulders to touch, and he was talking, _whispering_ , into her ear. 

When she ordered herself to stay calm, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his. He smiled. She felt the hair stand up on her arms.

“Your sister’s worried. You haven’t called.”

She frowned. “How do you know I haven’t called?”

This was, she realized too late, exactly the question he’d been expecting. “I know you haven’t called because I have.”

“Teagan has nothing to do with this. Stay away from her.”

Whispers chuckled. “I’m not interested in your sister, Nomi. What you will provide is of far greater use for our operation.”

Nomi heard the sound of hands typing on a keyboard and felt a frigid air coming from elsewhere. Whispers hadn’t been here when she woke. She concentrated on the sound of typing and thought of where he must be. Checking the surveillance? Air conditioners were always on full blast around computers, in case something overheated.

There had to be a control room in this building somewhere.

Before she could get a glimpse of the monitors, Whispers forced her back by the shoulder. His hand felt cold to the touch. “Where I am right now doesn’t concern you. But you should know your safety lies in my hands.”

As if they hadn’t been forced on the run for over a year just to avoid being murdered. Nomi laughed out loud at this, a tired laugh. Her hands were sweating under the pressure of the ropes, and a voice in the back of her mind screamed for her to get out of this space. “If you’re in the control room,” she kept her voice steady, talking over her own fears, “you’ll threaten to drop this elevator from the sixteenth floor, won’t you?”

“So you know about the building schematics.” He looked impressed. “Of course you do. You’re one of the brains of your little operation, aren’t you?”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Nomi said, trying to stall. 

She hated how her voice shook and hoped the Headhunter would put it down to distress over being caught rather than claustrophobia. There was no way she could break out the door, not with her hands bound behind her back. Even if she was free, if she was standing, she thought her legs might fall limp from shaking. She couldn’t. Not when she knew there was no way the door could open and every chance the elevator might drop.

She wondered if Whispers could hear how desperately her heart was beating.

His lips curled into a cold smile before she felt his consciousness gliding into hers, freezing over the corners of her mind untouched by fear. He looked through her eyes at the computer screen as she pulled up the records of the _sapiens_ inside BPO. She had even made an extra copy in case her laptop was compromised, which she’d hidden under the -

 _Teagan,_ she willed herself to think. 

Teagan and the dolls and the Sunday afternoon after she’d come back from church and shed her uncomfortable clothes. The day she told her sister to call her Nomi and wished she had a midnight blue dress of her own. Whispers was still seeing through Nomi’s eyes, but Nomi’s eyes saw through the eyes of her younger self. They saw her stroke the velvety fabric of the blue dress on the doll before handing it back to Teagan -

Whispers tried to think of ways Nomi could have used to contact her sister. The Archipelago dealers, perhaps? 

Teagan’s face morphed into Topher’s.

Nomi forced her mind to stay in the memory loop. She tightened her hold on the doll’s dress and recalled what it looked like before the memory could slip away. Midnight blue. She could see it in her mind’s eye — the dress, not Topher. 

The second memory, now. The doll’s dress became the dress Nomi pulled out of the box left by her door. She was reading the note Teagan had left her, and Whispers, to his frustration, was doing the same. He couldn’t care less about her past except for the parts that would reveal what she and her cluster had against them, but she let the overwhelming emotions wash over her. She remembered the moment she put the dress on and looked at herself in the mirror and let down her hair with a smile -

 _Remembered their invasion plan,_ guided Whisper’s voice. Nomi shivered violently in protest, her legs growing stiff against the floor in the elevator. _And remembered where everyone else is. I know they’re coming, Nomi. I’m waiting._

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, out loud, bringing them out of the memory loop altogether. 

Exposing her past with Teagan was dangerous. Jonas, as unreliable as he was with everything else, had made sure Nomi and Lito knew the risks of exposing their most intimate memories. But Nomi swore she’d do whatever it took to stop Whispers from using her sister against her, no matter what price Nomi herself had to pay.

Nomi forced herself to remember where she was, trapped in an elevator resting on the top floor, waiting to be dropped. And Whispers was back there with her too, both of them looking at the closed door.

She was visibly crying, and there was no way of hiding it. Part of it came from the bittersweet memory, but most of it was a reminder that she had no way of knowing whether anyone would come for her. Like he’d heard her thoughts, Whispers disappeared.

The elevator dropped, and Nomi couldn’t keep herself from screaming.

It stopped after several floors — she didn’t know how many, only that it ended before she could crash. Then it rose until it couldn’t rise any higher and stopped again. Whispers made no effort to hide his malicious smile when he reappeared by Nomi’s side. This time he tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and look him in the eye.

“Now, about the invasion plan. Have you reconsidered your answer?”

“It won’t do you any good to kill me,” Nomi insisted, baring her teeth. She swallowed back a sob and pleaded for someone to find where she was, exposing the connections in her mind to all friends and enemies. But her voice was the only one that echoed. 

Except for a faint presence somewhere close, but far. _Riley_. Riley, who was trapped.

There was another faint stirring in the distance, a voice Nomi didn’t expect to hear.

“Oh, yes.” Whispers’ smile deepened. “I forgot about dear Capheus.”

The sound of Capheus’ name brought Nomi to him. He sat next to her, hands bound behind his back, squinting as he adjusted his sight to the safety light on the ceiling. Nomi was still in the elevator. Did Capheus come visit _her_?

“ _Shit_ ,” Nomi muttered as she realized what was happening. The buttons were on the left-hand side now. Capheus was trapped in another elevator.

Which dropped two floors when Nomi came to this conclusion. The sudden motion jerked Capheus awake. He screamed, and the safety light flickered off, leaving him in the dark.

“I’ll admit,” said Whispers, “we didn’t expect all of you to be so… _famous_.” 

Nomi was back in her elevator now, and Whispers sat there, waiting patiently for her to stop hyperventilating. Her lungs were burning. She shut her eyes tight and held her breath for ten seconds before breathing out, as slowly as she could without shaking.

“It took us a long time to identify Mr Onyango as the 8th member,” he continued, leaning closer to whisper in her ear again. “But when he showed up with Wolfgang at Veronika’s office, I did a quick search of his date of birth.”

She opened her eyes abruptly at the mention of Wolfgang’s name and remembered what he was up to. Veronika’s office. They were going to Veronika’s office, and Capheus was with them. But they’d walked into a trap, and Nomi didn’t know where Kala or Wolfgang or Gina could be -

 _Veronika has plans for Mrs Kala Rasal,_ Whispers’ voice reverberated in their shared mind. _But you don’t need to concern yourself with her. You and Capheus have a long way to fall._

“So that’s it, then?” Nomi’s voice broke from anger rather than fear now. She didn’t have the strength left to be scared. “You’re going to find us and make us pay like you did to everyone else you captured.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Go to hell.” It was Dr Metzger’s face that resurfaced in her mind when Nomi said these words, the revulsion in her voice buried deep like a long-ago nightmare. Whispers raised an eyebrow, and she thought, _good, let him know_. “How do you live with yourself? After killing all these innocent people?” 

Will’s memory with Angelica slipped past Nomi’s mind, long enough for Nomi to hear her Mother’s voice. _All dead. He still talks to them in his sleep._

Nomi pushed the voice away and looked Whispers in the eye. “How do you live with yourself after killing your own cluster?”

Whispers grabbed her by the chin and forced her head back against the cold metal of the wall. He leaned forward so their noses were touching. “ _Don’t_ ,” he hissed, his voice dangerously low, “talk about things you don’t know.”

His anger turned into a cacophony of voices screaming in their collective mind, so loud that Nomi almost missed Capheus’ thought. But she forced her mouth into a sneer and felt Whispers’ rage intensify, then willed her consciousness to drift over to Capheus.

 _I got one of my hands free,_ Capheus thought. _Is there an alarm somewhere?_

She squinted and tried to make out the control panel in the dark. _Get the emergency button. It should be the lowest one._ Nomi felt Whispers’ presence wandering around, looking for hers. 

 _I didn’t look Whispers in the eye,_ Capheus pointed out. _He can’t visit me._

 _Good. Now try to hit the button with something,_ Nomi thought, then slipped back to the elevator where she sat before Whispers could see where she went. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did kill your cluster,” she said, calmer now. “You have no heart.”

Will had shared what he’d seen in Whispers’ head with the rest them, including the memory of Whispers operating on his own cluster-mate. The memory haunted all of them for days. What kind of sick person would kill his own cluster?

In Whispers’ mind, Ismael’s body stood up from the operating table, the dried blood vanishing from his face. Nomi watched carefully, ignoring the urge to pull herself away. The background shifted from fluorescent white into the night. Ismael walked forward, and Whispers ( _Milton_ , Nomi thought — she had trouble equating the young academic with the murderer) followed close behind. The two lonely figures stood, illuminated by poorly lit street lights. They were standing in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Ismael was ready to charge in, but Milton held him back.

 _Don’t do anything stupid!_ said Milton.

Ismael shook his shoulders and tried to wriggle himself free, clutching the switchblade in his hand. _They killed Nora! They’ll pay! They’ll fucking pay if it’s the last thing I do!_

 _Who killed Nora?_ Nomi thought, trying to follow as Ismael broke from Milton’s hold and rushed into the building. She heard a dozen voices shouting, then silence.

Whispers was trying to pull Nomi out of his head. He shook her by the shoulder, and she felt her back press against the wall of the elevator, but she shut her eyes and refused to take in her surroundings. Vaguely, she was aware of Capheus bending his leg back, and his free arm reaching forward, pulling off his shoe.

Whispers’ hand on her shoulder stopped. _You’re lying,_ Nomi thought, distracting him before he could find out what Capheus was up to. _Who else could have killed Leonora?_

Nomi found herself standing in a house in Greece, one Will had seen in a nightmare weeks before. She watched through Milton’s eyes as four men rounded up on Leonora, who was holding a knife to defend herself. Leonora looked at Nomi — no, at _Milton_ — one last time, before she smiled sadly. Leonora’s husband walked forward, ready to snatch the knife from her hands. 

The memory was fading as Whispers resisted, the scene slowly replaced by the dim blue of the light in the elevator. Nomi let out a frustrated groan and forced herself to picture what the house in Greece looked like. She forced herself to remember the hungry, leering eyes of Leonora’s husband that Will had seen in his nightmare.

 _I love you,_ Leonora turned to Milton and whispered. After one last look, she turned the blade around and stabbed herself.

“You couldn’t stop either of them from dying,” Nomi realized as her consciousness drifted back into the elevator once more.

Despite all this, Nomi felt no sympathy for the Whispers. The memories, as emotional as they were, felt far away like it came from an alternate version of the man sitting in the control room plotting her eventual death. 

As if on cue, the elevator dropped so suddenly that Nomi found herself lifted several inches from the ground, her bound wrists tugging painfully behind her back with the momentum of the drop. She landed with a painful thud when the elevator stopped, and a sob escaped from her mouth.

Somewhere, in the other elevator, Capheus was trying to hit the emergency button by throwing his shoe around in pitch blackness.

“But you let people think you killed them,” Nomi pointed out. She mustered all the disdain for Whispers in her voice, the emotions she’d picked up from Wolfgang when he’d scoffed and told them about Milton’s father. _He turned out just like him,_ Wolfgang had thought. “You may as well have. You didn’t honor their deaths.”

Whispers’ glare told Nomi she’d succeed in distracting him. “There’s no honor to be said when people want you dead. Your cluster, of all people, should know that.”

“We never lobotomized anyone to keep us safe.”

“Do you know how many lives were lost in this pointless war, Nomi? Do you know how many people your friends killed tonight?”

“That’s different -”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Whispers scoffed. “You and I are not so different.”

“We wouldn’t have had to kill anyone if you weren’t planning to turn us into zombies.”

Whispers shrugged, no longer willing to pursue the subject of who had the moral high ground. “This lie about my cluster protected me from them, as vile as it may sound.”

She knew Whispers couldn’t stop talking once he started. “Protected you from who?”

“ _Homo sapiens_. Who else? They outnumber us, so they think they out-power us, too. And they will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

“But no one knows about us,” Nomi pointed out. “Except the people who met with El-Saadawi, and she’s -”

“Oh, Nomi.” There was a pity in Whispers’ eyes like he was bestowing some kind of sacred knowledge upon her, something that would enlighten her to join his cause. “You don’t think every _sapien_ in the know agreed to keep people like us protected?”

Nomi scowled. “So some _sapiens_ wanted to exploit us. I get that.” And she meant it. Wasn’t Wolfgang’s grandmother a sensate? She’d collaborated with Veronika’s father. With _Vor_. “And you think you’re doing us a favor by killing us instead?”

“The only reason the _sapiens_ here keep us alive is that they’re afraid of us. I know Veronika would try and stab me in the back before I do the same to her. This collaboration isn’t permanent. Sooner or later, BPO will need to choose a side, too.”

“Us or them,” Nomi muttered, remembering what Jonas used to say so much.

“ _Sapiens_ or sensates.” Whispers nodded. “Not every _sapien_ wanted us protected. And not every sensate was willing to let El-Saadawi negotiate all of us into a peace treaty. Her treaty is nothing but a fantasy.”

“Because no _sapien_ was ever kind to you? Is that why you think that?”

“People are self-serving. You’re quite naïve, to believe otherwise,” Whispers said, sounding disappointed.

Nomi knew her deduction about Whispers was right, but she didn’t press it. Right now she had to keep asking questions. She begged Capheus to hurry. “Then why did you three try to find El-Saadawi?”

“We had no options,” he said simply. “We didn’t know anyone else. And then we did.”

It dawned on her. “But it was too late.”

“I sent Ismael’s ashes back to his brother after I was able to study his brain,” Whispers told her. It didn’t seem like he was lying. “This research was my leverage against Kolovi. But I didn’t specify the circumstances under which Ismael died. So Kareem thinks I killed his brother, and the _sapiens_ , my collaborators, thought the same.”

“And you didn’t care to correct them?” 

It could very well have been the last time Whispers opened his stone-cold heart to anyone. Nomi couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for the Headhunter, what with everything he’d done since then.

“I told them what they wanted to hear. They could not have succeeded in all this -” Whispers gestured around him, and for the first time, Nomi found herself in the control room for a brief few seconds before he forced them back - “without my help. My research with the likes of Kolovi was a temporary alliance. I needed the help of other academics to get to where I am today, just as they needed my research. But I was not going to let myself become a target.”

“So you told them you were a cannibal?”

“I did what I had to do.”

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm rang. Capheus whooped, victorious. For the first time that night, Nomi felt her energy rush back to her, and she wanted to jump up and punch Whispers in the face if only she could. 

Whispers swore. Nomi heard Whispers hit the keyboard frantically, no doubt to try and let them fall again, but even a rookie hacker knew that most elevators would lock in place as soon as the alarm was triggered. They were trapped, but safe. For now.

It was Nomi’s turn to gloat. “Wolfgang’s right,” she said, taking the opportunity to slip in next to Whispers and take in the control room with all the blinking lights and security footages — most of which were frozen, or flickering on and off, or completely shut down, thanks to Bug and the others. “You turned out just like your father.”

*

**_8: 13 PM, BPO, LL 3, East Wing_ ** _(Amanita, Mavis, Miki, Henrik)_

Henrik found Amanita, Mavis, and Miki in the hallway of LL3. They were searching around the east wing. They kept their ears perked to pick up sounds behind closed doors, none of them speaking. Amanita was well aware that with Sun and Mun had gone to help Lito and the others up on the 11th floor, they better save their strengths and not get into a confrontation until they absolutely had to.

“Will’s gotta be nearby,” said Amanita. “It’d be part of the torture to keep them close.”

Mavis nodded. No one else said anything, but they picked up the pace and pressed their ears closer to every door they checked. 

Three doors down, Mavis stopped and turned back to them. “The mirrors!” she exclaimed, careful to keep her voice low.

Henrik scratched his head. “What?”

“Some of the interrogation rooms have one-way mirrors,” Mavis explained. People can watch from the other side.”

“You think that’s where they put them?” asked Miki.

Amanita seethed. “I bet they put Will behind the mirror.”

Mavis walked briskly down the hallway and gestured for them to turn left. They stopped at the next intersection, turned again at some odd degree, and faced two halls parallel to each other. “These are the rooms with the mirrors. And this side -” she pointed at the one on the right - “is where the _sapiens_ go. We can check both sides, see if we hear anything.”

“Don’t they have surveillance inside the rooms?” asked Miki.

“Bug?” asked Amanita.

“No footage whatsoever,” Bug replied, sounding disappointed. Amanita told the others.

“Alright, then.” Mavis moved forward. “Meet back here if we find anything, I guess? Or, umm -” Mavis stopped before she could finish her sentence.

She probably didn’t want to entertain the possibility that they’d been relocated. And Amanita was with her. This was one of the last hallways in the east wing. Hell knew where else they could look if they didn’t find anyone here.

With a silent nod, Miki and Henrik went down the other hall. Amanita and Mavis kept their footsteps as light as they could as they walked and paused near every door, checking for voices. On the fifth door, they heard someone cursing in a distinct Irish accent.

Mavis turned and gave Amanita a nod. They tip-toed back to the meeting place and found Miki and Henrik there.

“Fifth room down the hall?” asked Henrik.

“Yeah,” Amanita confirmed. “So, Bug -”

“Can’t unlock these doors,” Bug chipped in before she finished, “I can’t find ‘em. Don’t think they’re in the system.”

“They’re not locked electronically,” Mavis told them, answering the question Amanita was about to ask. “You know, in case of - well, what we’re doing right now.”

Then she lifted the hood of her Hazmat suit and pulled out four bobby pins in her hair. Amanita suspected this was Spy 101, one of those “in case of emergencies” hacks. 

Mavis handed two pins to Miki and Henrik. “You know anything about picking locks?”

“Wolfgang taught me a few tricks.” Henrik tried to contain a smirk. Miki tutted her tongue and muttered “show off”.

They parted ways again. Mavis bent one of her bobby pins to a ninety-degree angle as a tension wrench and inserted it off to one side of the keyhole. Then she opened up the other bobby pin until it was one long, thin wire, and prodded at the remaining space inside the hole, fiddling this way and that.

As soon as they heard the faint click, they put their hands on the handle and pushed the door open together.

Professor Kolovi jumped at the sound of the door opening. Before he could reach for whatever weapon he was hiding, they had already pointed their guns at him.

“Really? Another Veracity traitor?” Kolovi asked, trying to sound amused. But it didn’t fool Amanita; his voice was clearly shaking.

“Surprise,” Mavis said dryly, lifting her mask with her free hand. Amanita did the same.

Kolovi raised an eyebrow. “Miss Keene. Or should I say, Miss Caplan-Marks?”

The mention of Nomi’s last name jolted Amanita from the temporary sense of victory she’d felt. Before Mavis could do anything, Amanita had already lunged forward with a shout. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she pinned Kolovi against the wall. Amanita’s hand clawed at the base of his neck near his collarbones, short of strangling him on the spot.

“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Amanita said with a low growl. She was leaning in so close, she could feel him breathing rapidly, trying to suppress his panic. She jabbed the muzzle of her gun against his forehead. “I don’t know how many bullets I got here, but I know it’s not blank. And I only need one to finish the job.”

Amanita couldn’t risk turning her gaze to see what Mavis was up to, but Mavis didn’t stop her, so she guessed they’d silently agreed to just threaten the guy. Though faintly, she thought she heard Mavis cutting their ropes loose with that handy switchblade she had, and then everyone was standing behind her.

At the moment Amanita didn’t care who was watching, or who was on their way — worse case scenario, she’d hold Kolovi hostage and get the answer out of him anyway. She was pretty sure Mavis would be pointing her gun at Kolovi now, too, just in case. And she had to keep her hold on him, she thought, gritting her teeth. 

This man and his collaborators had locked up her Noms. They wanted to use Noms, to _study_ her. They were gonna regret it if it was the last thing they ever did. 

“ _Where’s Nomi?!_ ” Amanita shouted. “ _Where is she?!_ ”

“Not on this floor,” Kolovi muttered. He was trying to sound smug, but it was impossible, given the predicament he was in. Served him right. 

Amanita pushed the gun against his forehead again, threatening to shoot.

“They’ve got a d-different plan for her.”

Behind her, Riley gasped. “Capheus. He’s trapped, and they tied him up, and Nomi -”

“ _Where’s Nomi?!_ ” Amanita shouted again.

“The elevators!” Kolovi admitted. Riley said it simultaneously, but all Amanita could see was the way Kolovi was cowering under her gaze. “Now please, _please_ ,” he bargained, “I told you what you needed to know. Let me go.”

A screeching sound echoed in the hallways, and Mavis shouted something about elevator alarms before she ran out. 

But Amanita was still looking at Kolovi. Even when he thought he was about to die, he didn’t seem to give a crap about the lives he’d destroyed. He’d begged because he thought she was gonna shoot her. _Because he’d done something to Noms. He hurt Noms. They knew. They knew Noms was scared of small spaces. They fucking knew, and they locked her up and tortured her._

The look in Kolovi eyes told Amanita he knew she wasn’t gonna let him get away with what he did to Noms. And for the first and last time, Amanita admitted he was right.

“Go to hell,” she hissed.

She shot him before she could think of a reason not to. Her finger curled reflexively around the trigger and jerked it back like it knew what she wanted to do before she’d consciously made the decision. Kolovi’s eyes stared blankly at her for another second before he crumpled to the floor, dead.

Someone’s hand was on her shoulder now. She turned around and saw Riley. Riley took her hand gently, gun and all, and guided her out of the room. There was a ringing in Amanita’s ears, and she couldn’t hear what Riley was saying. She felt Riley dab at her nose and cheek, and Amanita saw a few spots of blood when Riley drew her sleeve away.

Kolovi’s blood. On her face. After she’d shot him.

She killed Kolovi.

Fuck.

Amanita tried to curl her free hand into a fist, but it felt sore, and she vaguely remembered pinning Kolovi against the wall. Riley put her arm around her shoulder and lead her down the hall where Mavis and Genevieve were waiting there with a newly rescued Will, breathing heavily as he clung to Henrik’s shoulder.

“Will!” Riley ran forward. 

She threw her arms around Will, letting go of Amanita, who followed, still in a daze. Riley and cupped Will’s face with her hands. Will gave her a reassuring smile, trying to tuck his bloodied hands out of view behind his back.

That was when it hit Amanita. “Oh my God, Noms! And -”

“They’re stuck in the elevators,” Mavis told her. “There are emergency lock-pads on the wall, so we need to find one, and I hope my old override code is still -”

Amanita ran for the stairs before Mavis could finish talking.

*

**_8:15 PM, BPO, Rooftop_ ** _(Lito, Hernando, María, Sun, Mun)_

The rooftop smelled like the aftermath of a chemical explosion.

Lito was thankful they weren’t stopped by any more guards on their way up. María ran straight to their helicopter, and Lito and Hernando followed, climbing in the back and bolting the doors. They stayed silent as she checked the dials on the dash and declared they had enough fuel to go back to Paris, thank God. María had learned how to drive a helicopter as part of her Veracity training, she’d told Lito on the ride here. 

It didn’t occur to Lito to question where Lila’s cluster had got this helicopter at all. All that mattered was that it flew, which it should. The key had been left in the ignition in their rush to get the hell out of this thing earlier when they’d been ambushed -

The helicopter shook as the engined sputtered somewhere at the back of the plane. 

“Son of a bitch!” María punched the steering wheel. 

María tried shifting the gars, but nothing budged. She turned the key again. No luck. A quick check into some kind of compartment underneath the dash didn’t do any good, either. 

Behind them, there was the smell of something burning.

“María,” said Hernando, the fear apparent in his voice. “María, I think the engine broke from the explosion. We should -”

“Yeah.” She nodded absentmindedly, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah. Fuck, let’s move.”

Lito scrambled to do the same, and it took him three tries to find the button with his sweaty hands. He picked up the folders on his lap. Hernando got up next to him, clutching his own folders, and they left the helicopter and looked around, careful to keep away from the edge as they looked around. 

Nothing but the night sky without stars above. Nowhere to go but down.

“So, ground floor exit?” Hernando asked in a shaky voice, nudging up his broken glasses.

María sighed and made to move. “That’s our only way.”

Before they could reach the door to the stairwell again, it opened, and a dozen guards emerged and raised their guns.

*

 ** _8:18 PM, LL 2, East Wing_** _(Capheus, Mavis, Genevieve)_

The elevator door opened, and Mavis ran in, hacking the rope off of Capheus’ wrist with her switchblade. As soon as Capheus was freed, he grabbed the shoe he’d tossed to hit the alarm and put it back on. Mavis raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Genevieve was waiting outside, turning her head back and forth to see if anyone was coming.

“We need to find Kiira,” Genevieve told him after he walked out. 

“ _What?!_ ” Capheus stopped. “What happened to Kiira?”

“They got her and Leon.” Mavis cut to the chase. “You got any anti-Blockers left?” 

Capheus unzipped his jacket absentmindedly and fished out a syringe from his inner pocket. Kala had suggested he kept one on him just in case, and luckily no one cared to search his body before they’d bound him to an elevator. 

Mavis injected herself. She stood still for a few seconds before she came to, and, without another word, took off. Capheus chased after her, still squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights — he’d been sitting in the dark for far too long. 

“Oi, where’re you going?” Genevieve hissed, catching up to Mavis.

“North wing. I recognize that room. They’ve got the Traceworks.” Mavis stopped and pointed down the hall. “This way. Hurry!”

Capheus followed her and Genevieve, his mind racing with a thousand panicked thoughts. The Traceworks. Kiira and Leon had been taken to a room with a Traceworks machine. The same kind Whispers used on Wolfgang to _torture_ him -

They stopped at the next intersection. Mavis put the mask around her neck back on and looked at the three hallways in front of them, muttering something to herself, most likely trying to remember where the rooms with the Traceworks were. Capheus, though, was utterly lost. The lower levels were like a maze designed to deter any unwanted visitors from wandering around. He knew Will and the others had barely made it out last time, and that was only because Whispers’ room had been close to an elevator.

Mavis ushered them forward, and they ran down the leftmost of the three halls after her. She took them all the way to the end and made two more odd-angled turns before she put a hand to stop them, pressing herself against the wall. They did the same.

Mavis peeked her head around the corner, then whispered, “All clear.”

They moved to the door, and Mavis picked the lock. Kiira and Leon were lying on stretchers, fully conscious. Capheus freed his sister and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Kiira muttered.

“Sorry?” He pulled back. She didn’t look hurt. Only frazzled. But he examined her for injuries anyway. “You have nothing to be -”

“No, the Reciphorum.” There was a guilty look in her eyes. “Pelzer used it on us before he Blocked us again.”

“Where?” asked Genevieve, hacking off the last of Leon’s binds with a scalpel she’d found.

Leon frowned. “It was a theater. There’s going to be a show tonight. Looked like somewhere in the West End -” he sat up abruptly - “Lyceum Theater! Bloody hell. The attack’s gonna be in Lyceum Theater. I recognize the street.”

“I know where that is!” Kiira turned and jumped off her recliner a little too fast. Capheus lent her an arm, which she grabbed to keep herself steady before she could fall.

“It’s not too far from here,” Leon told them.

Genevieve was already heading out the door, grabbing Leon’s hand and pulling him along. “Think we can get there in time?”

Leon shrugged and jogged to keep up. “Ten minutes’ ride on motorcycles, I reckon. They should have a few in the parking garage upstairs.”

Capheus and Kiira exchanged a look, then followed them down the stairs. “Then let’s stop them,” they said, together.

*

**_8:20 PM, LL 2, West Wing_ ** _(Riley, Amanita, Will, Henrik, Miki, Nomi)_

Riley unlocked the elevator with Mavis’ override code. The emergency lock-pad was on the wall nearby, a safety precaution that may just have saved their lives. Her fingers nearly slipped off the pad twice, but she’d got the code in, and the screen turned green. The code still worked! Riley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nomi!” Amanita ran in before the door could fully open and threw her arms around her fiancée. “Oh my God, they fucking trapped you -”

“Neets, I’m okay,” Nomi reassured, her voice hoarse like she’d been screaming. “But Kala and Wolfgang and Capheus and Gina -”

“They’re getting Capheus out,” said Riley. “What happened to them?”

“I think Veronika set them up,” Nomi told them.

“We’ll get them after we find Whispers,” Will decided. “He’ll know where they are.”

Henrik went into the elevator with a pocket knife and cut Nomi free from her ropes. Amanita hoisted her up by the waist and continued fussing over her as they came out. Nomi gave Riley a shaky smile when Riley went over. 

Amanita grabbed Nomi’s hands. “Oh, Noms, you’re freezing.” 

Will took off his jacket and handed it to her. Nomi hesitated for a second, but he gave her a look. She took it but paused to look at Will’s hands. “What happened?”

That was when Riley noticed the blood drying over Will’s knuckles. “Will!”

“I tried to break the mirror,” he tried to brush it off, though he didn’t pull away when Riley took his hands. “No big deal. Really, I’m fine.”

“Whispers is in the control room,” Nomi told them. “We should -”

“Wait!” Mavis came running over from the end of the east wing, alone. 

“Is everything okay?” asked Riley.

“Yeah, fine. We found Leon and Kiira. They’re going to Lyceum Theater, all four of them -”

Will tensed. “Why?”

“Reciphorum attack. I gave them my last gun, but they’re gonna need backup.”

“Where are they?” asked Amanita.

“LL1. They just went. Can any of you ride a motorcycle?”

“We’re on it,” Nomi volunteered, grabbing Amanita’s hand.

Amanita looked concerned. “Noms, honey, are you sure you can -”

“I’ll be fine, Neets.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Henrik handed them the two guns he’d brought. “You’ll need these, yes?”

“Thanks,” said Nomi.

“And mine?” asked Miki.

“Hold on to it,” Will suggested. “Just in case.”

They walked up the stairs together. Amanita and Nomi said goodbye to them LL1 and ran out to join Capheus and the others. The rest of them climbed up, ready to emerge at the next level. Will tightened his hold on Riley’s hand, and she could feel sweat gathering in his palm. They needed to get a few more guns from the guards’ quarters before they could rush into the control room, and Riley hoped Whispers hadn’t moved again.

Before they could reach the ground floor, the lights flickered off, leaving them in the dark, and Riley heard the door click shut, locking them in.

*

**_8:23 PM, LL 2, North Wing_ ** _(Kala, Lila, Marcela)_

It was one thing to have Lila’s cluster-mates as allies. Kala hadn’t entertained the possibility too much, but she did assume their knowledge of BPO’s operations could help them. The circumstances were dire, and she was sure they had higher priorities than getting revenge on her cluster for kidnapping Lila, namely, Veronika and the Headhunters. 

But it was another to be trapped in a room with Marcela, the person who had nearly stabbed her to death, along with that bitch Lila, the person who had turned Wolfgang in and almost gotten him killed.

Of course, the hatred was mutual.

The three of them were alone and tied back to back on three chairs which were fastened to each other by the legs. As far as Kala could tell, their arms were bound behind their backs by the wrists, and another rope tied them by the waist to the back of their chairs. When they’d been brought here, someone injected Lila with a dose of Blockers again, cutting her off from any further connections. Kala wanted to kick herself for inventing that.

The lights were dim in the experiment room, and Kala wondered why they didn’t bind all three of them to reclining chairs, or why there were no reclining chairs here at all. But, she supposed, not all the rooms on LL2 would be torture chambers. Some could be… chemistry labs. Perhaps.

If only Kala could get herself free from the ropes, she was confident she could find something in one of the cabinets to break all of them out.

Kala’s backpack was sitting on the floor with the zippers all closed. They had bound her legs together by the ankles, but not to the chairs. She tried stretching them out, but they were a few feet short of reaching the straps.

“You need any help there?” Marcela cocked her head around so Kala could almost see her face. She had woken up a few minutes ago, but before that, Kala and Lila had been sitting in hostile silence, trying not to crane their necks to glare at each other.

“Could you be of any assistance with your hands bound behind your back?” Kala snapped. She had no reason to, of course, but as long as they were here, trapped, and possibly about to be separated again, it felt good to get her anger out.

“What Marcela means is,” said Lila, amused, “we can try and move towards it. Together.”

“Oh," Kala said, slightly embarrassed. “Are the chairs not fixed to the ground?”

Marcela chuckled. “Come on, you’re a scientist. Where’s that curiosity gone?”

They were taunting her together to rile her up, and Kala hated to admit it was working. This was hardly the time to play the blame game, she reminded herself grudgingly.

“Okay, then,” Kala finally said, “on the count of three?”

The first time they tried pushing themselves forward by their feet, Kala nearly tipped over, face-first. But she put her feet down again and steadied them just in time. It was working. They had got about three inches closer, approximately.

“Wouldn’t we be too loud?” asked Lila.

Kala thought about it. “Depends. When’s your cluster going to come?”

“They’re coming down through the roof. Elevator’s out of the question. Could take a while.”

“Our best bet is to hurry,” Marcela prompted. “Try again.”

It was slightly easier the second time, though they had taken it slower. Lila and Marcela were doing more pushing, and because Kala was facing the backpack, she tilted forward and tried to keep balance. Once she came close to twisting her ankles, but she’d stopped herself in time. They landed within reaching distance with a _thud_.

They looked at each other, alarmed. Marcela glanced over at the little window by the door, which she was facing, and informed them that there was a wall directly parallel to the room outside. This room was likely located at the center of the hallway. There could be guards stationed on both sides. No one was standing right outside of it, but Kala suspected they’d be guarded somehow. Thank Ganesha the room appeared to be soundproof.

Marcela tutted her tongue. “Kala, my dear, if you were an assassin you’d be dead by now.”

“Not everyone prides themselves on how many lives they can take without making a sound,” Kala snapped back. She turned away from them before she could see Marcela smirk, and hooked her feet against the strap of her backpack and pulled, then kicked it upwards. 

Kala tilted her legs up as far as she could, letting her bag roll precariously up her legs. The bag almost slid off to the ground twice, but it ended up on her lap eventually, and she ducked forward and bit on the zipper to the back compartment, sliding it open slowly. 

There was nothing inside, not even the lava grenades.

“They must have searched it,” Kala declared, defeated.

Lila groaned. “So much for that plan.” Kala imagined her rolling her eyes.

“Not quite,” Kala said smugly. She nibbled at the side of the left shoulder strap on her bag with her teeth until she saw a metal tip poking through a small tear in the seam. She bit the tip and pulled it out — a scalpel she’d hidden there in case of emergencies. 

When she sat up straight with the handle of the scalpel clenched between her teeth, they humphed, sounding vaguely impressed.

“I’m glad they didn’t take the whole backpack,” Lila muttered.

At that, Kala paused. “Could be part of part of their plan,” she mumbled as clearly as she could. “Another trap.” 

Or, she thought more optimistically, they’d decided to leave the bag there to give them false hope, not knowing they’d given them a real chance.

“We can take our chances with those guards out there,” Marcela decided, then turned her head to Kala. “Now come on, hand that over.”

“What?!”

Marcela reached a hand over and grabbed it from Kala’s mouth. 

“Wait,” Kala turned her head back abruptly, straining her neck, “how did you -”

“I’ve been trained, sweetie. I know how to get my hands free from ropes. Why did you think they had to knock me unconscious?”

Kala felt the ropes around her wrist loosen, then fall off. 

“You’re welcome,” said Marcela. Kala felt the handle of the scalpel pressed into her hands again. “Now get your legs free.”

“You’re not afraid I’ll stab you both?”

“You need us,” Lila said, sneering. “And we can still take you with our legs bound.”

Kala decided to ignore the jab for the time being as she freed her legs. It took her a moment to stand up and feel the tension in her muscles subside. Thankfully they hadn’t been here long enough for the ropes to set off any permanent circulation damage. She walked around and got them free, as promised.

Lila put up a fake innocent smile. “Beautiful. Now, if you could get these doors magically unlocked somehow, I’ll shut up for the rest of the night.”

Kala countered this in the only way she could without strangling the bitch — by rolling her eyes. “We need something else before we go.” She went to the cabinets and prayed there were spray cans. She found six. Duct tape and powders were easier to find, and she soaked one of the broken ropes in silicone oil.

She was making the same bomb she’d made to save Wolfgang at his uncle’s. Now she was using it to help people she would (had things played out differently) probably have already killed. But that wasn’t even the most ironic part of the situation.

“Tell me you have a lighter,” she said to Lila when she finished assembling two bombs.

Lila reached into her bra and pulled one out, handing it over with a chuckle. “You’d be dead without me.”

Now all they needed was a miracle.

“Fuck. The camera,” Marcela muttered, frowning at a corner of the room. Kala followed her gaze and saw that the little red dot on the security camera had turned on.

_Oh, Ganesha -_

The door unlocked with a faint click, but no guards rushed in. Kala ran over and pushed down the handle with her elbow, screaming a thousand _thank you_ ’s to Bug in her mind.

She turned back to face Lila and Marcela. “Let’s go.”

They nodded. Kala lit the ropes on her impromptu bombs and threw the door open, stepping out with both explosive devices behind her back. Lila and Marcela hung back by the doorframe, and, as expected, guards, came running from both ends of the hallway. Kala tossed a bomb over to each side with determined swings of her hands, then ran back in, closed the door, and crouched down. 

The little window on the door shattered above their heads, and the shards almost cut her arms. Kala smelled something burning, and then the fire alarm beeped a few times before sprinklers were activated. Water poured down from the ceiling. Without having to say another word, they ran out. Marcela took care of the two guards that remained standing. They hesitated for a second before deciding to turn left.

Veronika and a dozen guards emerged from the door at the end of the hall.

The guards ran to catch them. Kala couldn’t turn her back in case they fired, so, with a yelp, she ran forward and tackled one of the guards down by the legs. But he turned and pushed himself up and made a grab for Kala’s neck with his free hand. Before he could strangle Kala, someone shot him from behind, and his grip fell limp.

Kala pulled herself up, picked up the gun from the guard’s dead hand, and saw Maitake in front of her. He barely looked at her before he ran off to help his cluster-mates with the other guards. A flash of silvery blonde hair told Kala their other cluster-mate, Ragnar, had also come to the rescue. 

She heard footsteps thudding behind her. A bullet swished past her side, too close for comfort. She turned around in time to see another guard aiming for her as they ran, but she shot them down before they could take another shot. Then, after making sure no one else was sneaking up on her, Kala turned back and shot another guard who was aiming for her.

When no one else but Veronika was left standing, two Hazsuits came out of the room in front of which Veronika was standing, walking simultaneously. They stopped on either side of Veronika and hovered protectively. Veronika, to everyone’s shock, raised her hands in surrender, her back firmly pressed against the now closed door behind her. 

Lila and Marcela had already aimed their stolen guns at Veronika’s head. Kala did the same.

“You got me,” said Veronika.

One of the Hazsuits stepped in front of Veronika and took Marcela’s bullet. And Lila’s. And Kala’s. As they crumpled to the ground, Veronika grabbed the other Hazsuit and used them as a shield. Frustrated, Lila ran forward and emptied her gun on them.

“Now, that’s just cruel.” Veronika tutted her tongue. She pulled off the Hazsuit’s hood.

Lila fell to the floor, screaming as she clutched her head. Next to Kala, Marcela was still aiming her gun, but she stood there, frozen with a look of horror on her face. Kala looked between the cluster-mates, and back at Veronika and the bleeding corpse. The corpse who, Kala now realized, had a long scar across her forehead. A Bolger.

“You killed your own cluster in cold blood. Just like that,” Veronika taunted, crouching down. She pulled off the hood of the other Hazsuit who was lying dead on the ground. “Oh! _Two_ of them. And here you thought I was heartless.” 

“ _No, no, no…_ ” Lila muttered as she started to shake.

Kala heard gunshots and a clicking sound behind her before she felt a taser barb jammed into the flesh on her back near her spine. A gush of electricity pulsed through her body, and her vision blurred out of focus as she crumpled to the ground on her stomach. When her vision refocused, she felt too-strong hands grabbing her by the arms, pulling her away.

Away from Lila and Marcela, and Maitake and Ragnar, who were all lying unmoving on the ground, drowning in pools of their own blood. 

Away from Veronika, who towered over them, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW for depictions of torture.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> Welp. You thought all their problems would be solved by this point, but alas! I guess it all comes down to the next chapter, huh? (*In Nomi's voice* DON'T HIT ME!) I have a midterm on Monday (I know, boooooo!) but all I have to do is more editing so **chapter 36 should be out on Monday** anyway. That'd be a fun way to start your next week, wouldn't it?
> 
> After that, I'm not gonna post every third day because I need to actually Write The Thing. But hopefully chapter 37, aka "the aftermath", will be out by the end of next week :)


	36. The courage of our hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is determined to put an end to this war if it is the last thing they do.
> 
> “In the end, we will all be judged by the courage of our hearts.”  
> — From S1E8, “We Will All Be Judged by the Courage of Our Hearts”
> 
> **See the endnote for trigger warning(s).**

**_8:27 PM, BPO, Rooftop_ ** _(Lito, Hernando, María)_

Lito threw a lava grenade towards the oncoming guards and watched the first five go down.

“Lito, duck!” María shouted.

He ducked and narrowly missed a bullet swishing past the top of his head. Hernando was hovering close, zig-zagging around in a half-crouched position. The remaining five guards were relentlessly shooting at them, but without guns, they couldn’t retaliate. At this rate, they’d never make it to the door.

Two more helicopters landed behind them with their engine whirring. The blades spun and sent the wind gushing at their backside, lifting the back of their shirts. But Lito could barely notice the chill. He dreaded turning back to look. He didn’t want to see how many guards they sent as backup.

María had already tackled one guard down, stolen his gun, and finished him off in Lito’s brief moment of distraction. She shot down two of the four guards left standing. The other two made a run for Lito and Hernando, and Lito grabbed his partner’s hand and shielded his chest with the folders as if it could protect him from bullets.

Wait. That was it!

Lito picked up one folder and pretended to throw it like a frisbee towards the door to the stairs. One of the guards fell for it. The second the guard turned back, Hernando kicked them down from the back. The other guard lunged forward, grabbed Lito by the ankle, and pulled him down. Lito stuck out his arms to break his fall, sending his folders flying across the floor. He tried to kick the guard’s face with his free foot as he wiggled his other leg to try and free himself.

Then there was the sound of a gunshot behind him, and the hand on his ankle fell limp.

Hernando kneeled on top of the dead guard, his broken glasses askew, and handed his own stolen rifle to Lito. Then he pried the gun off the newly dead guard’s fingers and held that himself. He’d pressed his other arm pressed firmly against the folders on his chest, not willing to lose the evidence they’d been risking their lives for. The guard Hernando had kicked down earlier was nearby, lying in his own pool of blood.

“Lito,” Hernando muttered hoarsely. “Are you… are you okay?”

Lito cracked a small smile. “My hero.” 

He turned around and pulled himself up, then inched over and picked up his folders, his skinned elbows stinging in protest. 

María was facing the newly arrived helicopters from which more guards emerged with a dangerous look on her face. She aimed her two stolen rifles at the helicopters’ entrances and fired. As she shot, she backed up slowly, inching herself closer to the door down the stairs. About a dozen guards emerged from each helicopter. Lito took a deep breath, grabbed Hernando’s hand, and took a couple steps back himself. The sooner they got to that door, the better.

Lito passed by the five dead guards they’d taken out with a lava grenade explosion earlier and saw their charred, ashen corpses. Before he could take in the gory sight, he forced himself to look away and fire more bullets at their living pursuers, cursing the size of the rooftop. He, Hernando, and María were only halfway to the door. They couldn’t go downstairs knowing there were twenty or so guards on their trail.

One of the newly emerged guards turned their gun on their colleague and fired.

It took Lito a few seconds to realize what was going on, but María had taken advantage of the diversion right away. She avoided a few Veracity infiltrators who were clearly wrestling with their former colleagues and fired at the baffled crowd until her bullets ran out. 

“Son of a bitch!” she cried, still facing forward. “Lito, take Hernando and run -”

“No!” they screamed back, together.

“I’m staying,” Lito insisted. He looked at Hernando and nudged him back towards where the door was. “Take your evidence and go. Go down to the ground floor. We’ll cover you.”

“Lito -”

“I’ll keep my folders. You take yours. We have more chances of making it out of this building if we separate! Go!” 

Hernando took a tube out of his backpack — the last lava grenade — and put it in Lito’s hand. Lito gave him a nod, his heart tugging painfully at the sight of Hernando’s worried expression. He risked a quick glance at the door. _Please_.

“Be careful,” said Hernando, before he went.

Lito picked up the last rifle from the ground and tossed it to María. A few more Veracity infiltrators — three, maybe four — were fighting the people in their own crowd. María shot at the non-Veracity guards to help, but they all went down in the midst of all the chaos, loyalists and traitors alike, falling into an indistinguishable heap of bodies. Lito was still backing away and dodging in zig-zag reflexively as the last few standing tried to shoot him. He fired back until he had run out of bullets.

María finally turned to face him when it was certain no one else could get up. “Let’s run.”

A third helicopter landed on the roof as they ran for the door. Lito could hear the whirring of the engine and the sound of the door opening, and he knew it landed closer to them than the previous two. Now weaponless, they turned back to the helicopter to keep an eye out. María grabbed his hand and guided him, putting her other hand behind her in case they backed against the door or the wall. 

“We can’t have them chase us downstairs,” said Lito. “There’s too many of them. They’ll catch up and -”

“No, we can’t,” she agreed, frowning at the helicopter where the guards were now working to open the doors. 

Her voice didn’t shake, and her hand was firm against his. She’d always been the braver of the two, always been the one to charge first into their imaginary fight and take the lead, bellowing instructions at her fellow agent to cover her. Now the enemy target was no longer imaginary, and she fixed her gaze upon it, determined.

“ _Now_ ,” María said, drawing her hand away.

Without needing to ask, Lito pulled out the last lava grenade from its tube and handed it to her. Instead of tossing it directly into the crowd of emerging guards, she threw it at the water tower on the right of the now-emerging crowd. They looked relieved as they raised their weapons, thinking she’d missed. But before they could aim, the grenade bounced off the top of the structure and landed right in front of them. María cackled, her voice synchronized with the unmistakable sound of the explosion.

The guards had nowhere to run before the entire helicopter was engulfed in flames. Kala had told Lito the explosions didn’t have much range. She’d designed it to hit specific crowds with relative precision without burning the entire building down, but the guards hadn’t had a chance to get far from their vehicle. The windows of the helicopter were blown open, and glass shards landed on the bodies like confetti. 

An alarm came from the water tower, screeching once before it stopped.

Lito whipped his head in that direction and frowned. “What the -”

Another screech.

“The failsafe!” María shoved both of them towards the door. “Shit! We triggered the failsafe!” She pulled the door handle and nudged him inside the stairwells -

The alarm screeched a third time.

Before María could step through the door and join Lito, the water tower exploded, and the door closed on impact, trapping his best friend on the other side. 

“ _María_!” Lito pounded on the metal door, which was growing hot with the heat of the most recent explosion. “María! Can you hear me?!”

Smoke seeped through the gaps of the door, stinging Lito’s eyes. He coughed.

The door handle was scorching hot when Lito put his hands on it, but he pushed it down, ignoring the singeing heat. He rammed his shoulder into the door to try and get the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. The Bluetooth device tugged painfully against his ear at the impact. He’d almost forgotten it was still there.

“María! Bug! Bug, please, open the -”

“The failsafe, it’s overriding my command,” came Bug’s voice, echoing through the device. “Lito, I think they’ve got a protocol built in -”

“ _Open the door, Bug!_ ”

“I-I can’t!” Bug stammered. “Veracity’s sending over a helicopter, Lito. They’ll land on the roof. They’ll find her and take her to -”

“Please! Bug, _please_!”

The folders slipped from Lito’s hold and dropped to the ground. Now he felt his hands burning. He let go and sank to the ground, his back against a wall.

“ _Lito_.” Bug’s voice was characteristically firm, and it surprised him so much that for a second, he stopped sobbing. “Lito, listen to me. Goddammit, this is hard, I can’t believe I’m saying this -” he mumbled something, but then seemed to snap out of it - “Fuck it. No, Lito, you have to go down. _Go_. They’ll get your friend out as soon as they can, but -”

“Hernando,” Lito remembered, sitting up. “Hernando - where is he?”

“Exactly! Hernando’s gone downstairs. He’s looking for a way out. Go find him.”

Lito picked up the folders and stood up. “I’ll go find him.”

“Yes. _Go_.”

“But María -”

“She’ll be okay,” Bug tried to reassure, his shaky voice far from convincing. “These guys at Veracity, they’ll do everything they can, Lito. I trust ‘em. I know you trust ‘em too. But Hernando needs you.”

“Hernando needs me.” Lito chanted this like a mantra as he ran down the stairs two at a time, gripping the folders in his hands like they were his lifeline. “I’m - I’m going.”

*

**_8:28 PM, BPO, Stairwell_ ** _(Riley, Will, Mavis, Miki, Henrik)_

The lights in the stairwell flickered off, then on, then back off. Bug and the other hackers must have been fighting for control with the BPO hackers. Riley’s heart pounded in her chest, and she brushed her arm against Will’s. He took her hand. Together, they ran up to the ground floor and tried to push the door open, but found it locked.

With another click, the lights went back off. Before Riley could open her mouth to ask what was going on, someone grabbed her hand and put their hand around her mouth. She tried to scream, but the grip on her mouth tightened, and Riley’s voice came out muffled. 

“Shh, Riley, it’s me,” Sun whispered in her ear.

Riley nodded, and Sun let go. “Sun. Thank God.”

“And me,” Detective Mun mumbled. “We just came down.”

“We sent Lito and the others off to the roof,” Sun answered before anyone else could ask, glancing around at their expectant faces. “What is this -”

The lights flickered back on, and they came face to face with Karl Pelzer. The seven of them were cramped in the small platform next to the door. A dozen people in Hazmat suits were standing on the flights of stairs, blocking their way. For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Sun spoke first. “Are you here to kill us?”

“No.” Pelzer looked at her, his face expressionless. “I’m looking for Jonas.”

“Jonas?” Mavis looked confused.

“Jonas escaped,” said Pelzer. “But since I found _you_ here -”

Riley saw Sun cast a fleeting glance over to Detective Mun, who glanced back and gave her a small nod. Sun threw a punch and knocked the Headhunter back against the wall.

And so began another confrontation. Those who could hold their own ripped off the masks of their suited attackers and tried to wrestle the guns from them. The rest, Riley included, dodged as best they could, hoping no one would grab them and pull them away.

Surprisingly, Pelzer was able to worm his way out of the range of Sun’s attacks. Three men in Hazmat suits held Sun back, and she was too busy fending them off to keep Pelzer from slipping away upstairs. Mun ran up to confront him with a stolen gun, taking down another attacker in the process. Riley silently wished him good luck.

Madness ensued between Riley’s allies and the Hazsuits who refused to die. Bullets bounced off walls, and one came too close to Riley’s thigh. She jumped and backed into Will, who turned around from the person he was fighting to punch the guy who almost killed Riley, yelping in pain as the cuts on his knuckles opened wider. The guy he picked missed a step and fell down the stairs, head crashing against the wall.

Will pulled Riley away from the steps before she could fall, too. “Careful there,” Will warned before he went back to defend against his previous attacker. Will seized the attacker’s gun and gave it to Riley, then rushed over to help Miki.

Someone made a grab for Riley’s free arm, but she startled and pulled herself away in the nick of time, firing behind her back. When she turned, she saw the person falling back, already dying. They crashed into the wall, and Riley winced.

Another Hazsuit almost caught Riley’s sleeve in her distraction, but Henrik pried them off and put a bullet through their head. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Riley pointed at a Hazsuit who was making a move for Henrik behind his back. He turned and finished off the guy. 

That seemed to be their last attacker, judging by the silence that ensued. Now all was quiet in the stairwell except for the moans from the Hazsuits who had fallen but hadn’t died yet. They stirred in pools of blood but couldn’t get up again.

“Hey, Pelzer!” came Mavis’ voice.

Riley turned and saw Mavis standing by the stairs leading up, arms crossed. The snarling Headhunter walked down from the floor above. Mun, who had set out to confront him earlier, was nowhere to be seen. Sun met Riley’s eyes, and they shared a worried look.

From behind his back, Pelzer took out an already-bloodstained knife and thrust it forward, right at Mavis’ chest. The blade hit the wall behind Mavis at the same moment Riley opened her mouth to shout for her to move. It clattered to the ground.

Pelzer looked wide-eyed at where Mavis had been. 

Where Mavis had been _visiting_.

A second later, Pelzer came to his senses and turned. But too late. The real Mavis jabbed her switchblade into his temple from behind, and he fell face-first down the stairs, dead.

Mavis sauntered down with a satisfied smirk, followed by an impressed Detective Mun who looked mostly unscathed. She bent down to retrieve her switchblade from Pelzer. Blood gushed from his head when she pulled the blade out, almost spilling over her shoes. She wiped her favorite weapon on Pelzer’s shirt before she tucked the knife away, back to the hidden pocket in her boot.

“ _What_?” Will finally spoke.

“I thought she could do the honors,” Detective Mun spoke up. 

Mavis chuckled, looking at Pelzer’s body. “I un-Blocked myself, remember?”

“Right.” Will pushed the door, and, to everyone’s surprise, it opened. Sun whispered a quick _thank you_ to Bug through her earpiece, and they were off. No one else came to confront them. Was BPO running out of security? Or were they preoccupied with -

“Wait.” Riley stopped in the middle of the quiet hallway. “Kala and Wolfgang -”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will muttered.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Riley wondered if Wolfgang might have been taken to the same room he was once imprisoned in. Judging by the looks of unease Will was exchanging with Sun, she believed they suspected the same.

“Oh!” Henrik reached into a hidden pocket in his jacket and pulled out another syringe. An anti-Blocker. “Try this. It’s my last.”

Sun accepted it and injected herself, frowning in concentration as she tried to establish a connection with Wolfgang. “You go look for Whispers. Kwon-Ho and I can find them.”

*

**_8:33 PM, Lyceum Theater_ ** _(Capheus, Kiira, Leon, Genevieve, Nomi, Amanita)_

Capheus and Kiira ran upstairs to the bar, and found it empty. The production of _The Lion King_ was back on stage following an intermission, judging by the music playing from the stage. But even the bartender was nowhere to be seen. There was spilled wine on the carpet, a dozen shattered glasses and a few scuff marks. Capheus didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to know what happened.

“We’re too late!” Kiira exclaimed, looking back and forth for someone, anyone.

They flagged down an employee, who told them six people had fainted (“fell ill from that bloody brain epidemic, they did”) and were taken away by BPO for quarantine. 

Capheus heard a chime in his pocket and took out the burner phone Amanita had handed him. She and Nomi were waiting outside the theater, scouting for armed guards. Leon and Genevieve were riding around the streets from Parliament to Lyceum Theater on their motorcycle, hoping to catch BPO vans in the act.

 _No vans out here,_ said Amanita’s text.

Capheus and Kiira ran downstairs to meet the woman in question. “They left,” Capheus said, panting. “They got six people.”

Amanita swore and ran for her stolen motorcycle. She hopped on, took the Bluetooth device from her ear, and handed it to Nomi, who was climbing on behind her. Capheus found his motorcycle and waited for Kiira to fasten the helmet around her head. Kiira wrapped her arms around his waist, bracing herself for another ride. 

“Bug says they’re on their way back to headquarters,” Nomi turned back and shouted as Amanita started the ignition. “Leon and Genevieve are chasing them down.”

Capheus followed Amanita, and they sped down the streets. 

He sincerely hoped drivers would have enough time to pull their brakes and not ram into them. Five blocks later, they slowed down when they saw Leon and Genevieve tailing the two green BPO vans, letting a few cars come between them for cover. The vans didn’t appear to have noticed them. They stopped at a red light, but Capheus knew it was only a matter of time.

 _The trunks are bulletproof,_ Kiira thought. 

Nomi and Leon turned, having picked up on her idea. 

“Reckon we should aim for the tires?” asked Leon, nudging Genevieve to take out her gun.

It seemed like the best plan they could come up with, so no one objected. Capheus and the others had four guns between them, two of which were in Nomi’s hands. She muttered something that Capheus guessed was meant for Bug, and the red light turned green earlier than expected. The vans sped forward, one behind the other, only to be stopped at an impromptu red light at the next intersection. The perfect distraction.

“On three!” Amanita shouted, taking the lead. Her motorcycle weaved through the spaces between other cars until it was on the right side of the first green van within arm’s reach. Nomi aimed, firing a dozen bullets near the ground. 

There was a loud popping sound, and the van tilted sideways from the front right corner. Before anyone could get out, they had already sped down the street, ignoring the second van for now, and disappeared out of view. 

 _We’re gonna circle around the block and come back for the other van from the left-hand side,_ Nomi thought to the sensates. _Cover us._

Capheus and Leon gave their approval as they followed Amanita’s lead to pass by the first van. Kiira and Genevieve took aim as they straightened themselves in the back seat. Four guards emerged from the rear trunk of the first van, not bothering to close the door. Kiira was shooting as low as she could — she didn’t want to end up killing one of the hostages — and one guard fell to the ground, clutching their leg. 

The driver got out of the van, too, but before he could raise his own gun, Capheus and Kiira had already zipped past to shoot at the tires of the second van. By the time Capheus rounded the corner to circle around the block, Nomi and Amanita had already doubled back. Through Nomi’s eyes, Capheus saw five guards and one driver left standing, trying desperately to guard both vans. Nomi took down two.

The rest, thinking this was the last round of attacks, went back to secure the hostages. They prepared to lock the back trunks of the vans, and the driver started the ignition, but Capheus and Leon had doubled back. Kiira and Genevieve, sitting behind them, finished everyone else off.

It was only then that Capheus noticed they’d caused quite a commotion on the street. A dozen cars were clogging up the road, and Bug had had to switch the light green to let them pass. They all stayed close to the trunk of the vans as cars drove past. 

Two minutes later, Bug gave them another red light, and they got off their motorcycles and ran to the trunks to pull out the confused sensate hostages. The Reciphorum had worn off, and they sat up in their stretcher. Nomi gave them an “I’ll explain later” look and helped them out, keeping a wary eye on the three guards lying on the ground

“Mate,” said one middle-aged sensate, frowning at Capheus, “what was that? Were those bloody BPO vans? I took my Blocker! I was -”

“The important thing is you’re safe now,” Kiira cut in. 

Capheus gave her a grateful smile. He had no clue how he was going to respond, and now wasn’t time for the whole truth.

The man nodded and didn’t ask any more questions. The others were eyeing the bleeding guards stirring on the ground uneasily, relieved they had dodged a bullet. A siren wailed in the distance. Capheus knew they had to get a move on, quick.

Leon ran over to a white minivan and pointed his gun at the driver’s window. A woman got out and raised both hands above her head, muttering pleas under her breath. “I’m really, _really_ sorry about this, ma’am,” said Leon, nodding for the others to climb in as he kept his gun trained on the lady. “But we’re gonna need your van.”

Capheus climbed into the driver’s seat. Leon lowered his gun and ran as fast as he could to the passenger seat, slamming the door shut as the panicked woman scampered off. (“I’ll get you a new van, promise!” Leon shouted from the window.) Everyone else was crowded in the back, and the sensate hostages were whispering among themselves. Nomi and Amanita were doing their best to reassure them that _they_ weren’t kidnappers. 

The light turned green. Capheus heard police sirens drawing closer. A glance at the rearview mirror told him someone had called an ambulance, too. He stepped on the pedal and drove as fast as the minivan could take them, speeding off towards one of the only places in London he remembered: their first safe house.

*

**_8:37 PM, BPO, LL 2, South Wing_ ** _(Wolfgang, Kala)_

The ceiling in the interrogation room was sprinkled with bullets, and the air smelled tangy with fresh blood. If Wolfgang craned his neck and looked down, he could see scuff marks on the ground, streaks lined with scarlet, punctuated by the occasional bloody boot-print. He frowned, wondering who had been there and had their bodies towed. Wolfgang hoped it was the Headhunters. He hoped Sun and the others did them in.

He was bound to his recliner chair from shoulder to ankle, the belts unrelenting as he tried to move around. His wrists were cuffed to the armrests, and the metal felt cold to the touch. But what really made Wolfgang freeze was the heart monitor and EEG cap in front of him.

The door opened, and Veronika walked in.

“Good evening, Wolfgang.” The corners of her lips twitched, an indication of a smirk. She stood in front of him, and he had to look up to meet her eyes.

“ _You_.” Wolfgang seethed.

“I thought you might be a bit lonely.” She walked towards the door again. “So I brought you a friend.”

Three figures in Hazmat suits carried a prisoner in their arms and dragged her towards an unoccupied reclining chair next to Wolfgang’s. He froze at the sight of her. But it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be.

She was unconscious, and a curtain of black hair covered her face. Bits of blood seeped through from one point at her back, sprinkles of scarlet against her lemon yellow blouse. Her manicured fingers twitched slightly when they laid her back, bound her tight against the chair, and revealed her face.

_No, no, no -_

“Kala,” he rasped. His voice was strained from screaming so much — he’d shouted while they put him into a car with Capheus and Gina, hoping someone on the street might hear.

Something fluttered underneath her closed eyelids.

“Oh, good.” Veronika walked forward and sat on the other side of the stretcher, stroking Kala’s chin as she fixed the EEG cap over her head. “She’s almost awake.”

Wolfgang thrashed forward in his seat, the handcuffs digging into his wrists as they jingled against the chair. “Don’t you _fucking dare_ -”

“I’m not going to do anything, Wolfgang.” Veronika beckoned at the door. Another figure in a Hazmat suit came in, carrying a tray full of chemicals and injections. “Not willingly, anyway. Whatever happens to you two will depend on how you cooperate.”

One Hazsuit opened a bottle of chemicals and waved it in front of Kala’s nose. She jerked awake in seconds. Her head darted back and forth, from Wolfgang to Veronika, before she came to her senses and shut her eyes, pleading that _this wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real._

But how could Wolfgang have heard her thoughts?

“Quite a few inventions you’ve got here, Mrs. Rasal.” Veronika picked up two syringes from the tray and waved it in front of Kala, who cracked open her eyes and looked. “We recognized this one. We’ve been using our own formula. Inspired by yours.”

“We can reach the rest of our cluster,” said Kala. “You didn’t Block us. You gave us the antidote. They’ll be here any minute.”

Wolfgang was surprised to hear how calm Kala sounded. He turned to her and frowned. She gave him her best crack at a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ahh, yes. An antidote. We suspected as much.” Veronika fiddled with the dagger brooch on her collar. “Clever.”

Kala sighed.“I see you’ve searched my bag. I was looking for those.”

“Well, you got on just fine without them, didn’t you? You and Lila and Marcela. Who would have thought?”

 _What happened to Lila?_ Wolfgang thought. 

Kala shook her head. Her expression was inscrutable.

“What I want to do,” Veronika continued, watching their silent exchange with interest, “won’t take all night. I’ll be finished by the time they get here.”

She gestured for a Hazsuit to come over. They pressed a button on the monitor between their reclining chairs. The Traceworks. The machine whirred when the electric pulses were activated, the sound painfully familiar to Wolfgang’s ears. Another suited figure loomed over him, paddles ready.

Wolfgang shut his eyes and anticipated pain. He anticipated the agonizing pulses tearing and convulsing through his veins, just like before. His body tensed as he braced himself against the pressure over his lungs -

Nothing came.

Next to him, Kala whimpered.

He turned in time to see the Hazsuit turn around to push the paddle against _her_ chest. She jerked violently under the impact of the high voltage, and a trail of blood escaped the corner of her mouth. But she’d shut her eyes and mouth tight, trying not to scream. When the paddle was released, he could see blood soaking through her front — the place where the taser barb had punctured her skin earlier this evening.

“Stop!” Wolfgang thrashed in his chair, the metal of the handcuffs rattling against the armrests on the side. “Kala! No!”

“Oh, Wolfgang.” Veronika towered over him, her blue eyes familiar but daunting. In there was a ghost of another woman he wished he could see. “I know you’d never cave. Not unless we have someone else to hold over you.”

The recliner chair was shaking as he fought against it, hoping to kick his way out. It creaked under pressure, and he sat up as much as he could, trying to pluck the chair off the ground with the force of his weight. The cuffs around his wrists and restraining belts over his torso dug painful groves into his skin. He gritted his teeth.

“W-Wolfgang.” Kala coughed, blood running down her chin. “Don’t.”

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it reverberated in their shared minds, growing louder every time she called his name. Wolfgang heard someone else call his name, too. _Riley_. Riley’s connection was open, and Sun’s, both of their presence flickering in and out with every swift motion. 

It seemed like they were in a fight. Different fights. Riley was doing her best to dodge, and Sun was fighting attackers off with heavy and bruised limbs, gritting her teeth as old injuries flared up all over her body.

 _Help._ Wolfgang thought. _Please._

“Did I mention this room is soundproof, Wolfgang?” Veronika was holding the paddle now. But she set it aside and moved her chair over to Kala, one hand hovering over the spot of blood on her chest. “The architects assured me no one can hear you beg for your death.”

“ _Don’t_ ," Wolfgang warned, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”

Veronika pushed her hand against the wound on Kala’s chest. Kala had been trying not to scream, Wolfgang could tell, but now she moaned in pain at Veronika’s touch. She tried to hold back a sob as tears stung her eyes.

“Kala!” he screamed. “No! _Stop it!_ ”

“I don’t care where your cluster is.” Veronika drew her hand back, admiring the smears of blood on her palm. “My guards will catch them all in due time. I want to know your plan. Why you came. What are you after?”

 _Wolfgang._ Even in their head, Kala’s voice was faint. _Wolfgang, don’t._

He wanted to tell Veronika everything, so long as she spared Kala from the same torture he’d gone through last time. The restraints weren’t going to break no matter how hard he tried, and now a Hazsuit was looming over him, holding a syringe close to his neck, threatening him to stay still. 

But Wolfgang knew if he caved, the sensates in this world would all be destroyed. His cluster, most of all. And he couldn’t. They’d come too far.

Veronika seemed to have taken his silence as an answer. She snapped her fingers, and a Hazsuit pushed the paddle against Kala’s chest again, turning up the dial. This time she screamed and choked on her own blood. Wolfgang teared up in her place.

 _I’m sorry,_ she thought. _I’m sorry I let them get to me. Wolfgang, I’m sorry._

“ _No!_ ” he bellowed, craning his neck so he could see eye-to-eye with Veronika. 

“No, what?” Veronika watched his response, amused. She reached forward and pushed some hair out of Kala’s eyes, cooing at the sight of her brows furrowed in pain, at the way a purple tinge crept up her lips.

“Leave her alone!”

Surprisingly, she obliged, moving her chair away from Kala. She moved over to Wolfgang, so close, he could feel what little heat emanated from her cold-blooded skin. “Sooner or later you’ll cave. They all do.”

“We’re not like Milton.” Wolfgang spat out the Headhunter’s name like it was a curse. In a way, it was. It was Whispers’ existence that doomed all of them from the start. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Kala struggling to stay conscious. Her thoughts were fading from his mind, drifting away from him. He reached out for her presence, but it dispersed in their shared consciousness like a cold mist.

Veronika tutted her tongue. “You think you’re so different from him. Milton was like you once, did you know? He was in love. And he believed he and his cluster could, oh, ‘change the world’. He thought they could find others who were like them, and they could all live happily ever after.

“So he and his cluster sought out El-Saadawi when half the sensate world knew why her vision would never have worked. This _obligate mutualism_ ,” Veronika uttered the words contemptuously like they were poison in her tongue, “was nothing more than an ideal. But now Milton knows the truth. We have power over your kind. His only bet to stay alive was to work for me.”

“He’s going to betray you,” Wolfgang pointed out. Kala was becoming unresponsive. He didn’t dare look at her again — Veronika would catch him at it. “You know as well as I do. He only works for you because he has to. Sooner or later, he’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Wolfgang had never been much of a talker, but this was the only way Veronika would stay away. Anything to keep her from Kala, he thought, clutching his hands into fists.

“Maybe.” Veronika didn’t look bothered. “But he’s not my only Headhunter. He’s served his purpose in this organization. I’m always prepared to replace him.”

“With who? Karl Pelzer?” Wolfgang let out a dry laugh. In the back of his mind, he knew, somehow, that Pelzer was dead. Riley and Sun knew he was dead. Someone had done him in. But right now he didn’t break the news. Pelzer was a conversation starter. “He’s useless. He couldn’t even get two names out of me.”

“And yet you’re here again. Both of you. Just like Milton and I intended.” Veronika stroked his head. He tried to draw away, but the binds wouldn’t let him move more than an inch. “I always get what I want. I got that with Milton, and I’ll get it with your cluster.”

“What could you have wanted Milton for?”

“All this -” she gestured around her, at the lab, at the ceiling with the blood and bullets - “I couldn’t have done all this on my own. I needed people like him. People, sensates, who had nothing to lose.”

“But he _had_ something to lose.”

Veronika chuckled. “Not anymore. My father told his contacts in Greece to take care of the little problem. And then Cairo, too — his Egyptian cluster-mate had gotten quite bothersome with his talk of revenge. Sad. I had hoped I could recruit them both.”

So it was a family business. Dirty business, like the kind Wolfgang used to do for his uncle. Typical. He shook his head. “They say Milton killed his own cluster.”

“But he did, Wolfgang. He may as well did. His curiosity about his condition got the attention from my father’s contacts. They had been watching El-Saadawi for a long time. They walked into our trap.”

Kala was on the brink between wakefulness and sleep, her thoughts shifting into a language Wolfgang couldn’t understand. But she was still reaching out, still trying to communicate. And one word, he could hear for certain. _Wolfgang. Wolfgang._

Wolfgang seethed. “And now you’re here to finish what your father started?”

“Hardly.” Veronika stood up and looked at the door. A Hazsuit walked over and opened it. “With the direction he was headed for, we would have been at the sensates’ beck and call. No. My stepmother blinded him like she did with so many others. Funny how the heart gives in to the most dangerous things.”

Four people walked into the room in perfectly synchronized steps, the scars across their foreheads unmistakable. They looked the same age Veronika, but their complexions were a sickly gray like they had been dead years ago. Bits of frost hung at the tip of their hair, newly un-frozen. The moment they stopped in front of the stretcher, Wolfgang felt a chill in the air worming its ways into his body.

“These people used to work for my father. Of their own volition, they say. My stepmother convinced them to join our operations.”

Something clicked in Wolfgang’s mind. He bet Veronika had eliminated her stepmother, but he’d never given much thought to the fate of the rest of her cluster. Now he couldn’t see anywhere else they would be, except as Veronika’s mindless pawns.

“Do excuse their sluggishness.” She walked around them, eyeing them with distaste. “Your allies eliminated some of my best London-based Hunters in this very room.” Wolfgang’s eyes darted to the ceiling again. “But the Hunters in Chicago are doing an adequate job.”

“Why are you showing me this now?” Wolfgang tried to sound nonchalant. Without changing his expression, he reached out for Kala in his mind and found a barrier. It hadn’t closed all the way around and blocked him out yet. He had to keep trying. “Why not send them to us when we first got here?”

“I am not going to waste all my soldiers on a group of vigilantes.” Veronika waved the Bolgers off, and they turned and walked back out. The Hazsuit shut the door. “But I want you to understand. Just you.”

“Because of my mother?” 

The bitterness had crept back into his voice without warning. If he could get off the chair, if the restraints didn’t hold any longer, Veronika would be dead within seconds.

“It’s in her blood!” Veronika shouted. He had never seen her shout. Never imagined she could. “And yours.” She lowered herself so they saw eye-to-eye. 

“I don’t give a fuck about blood.” _Not anymore._

“But I do.” Veronika stood up and sauntered back to Kala’s chair. “You’ve seen what happens to people who hurt me. You’ve experienced it. And now it’s your turn.”

Sun reached out to Wolfgang in their mind. He felt her running down a hallway with Detective Mun. _Hold on,_ she told him. _We’re almost there._

“So kill me, then,” Wolfgang dared Veronika, riled up with a newfound strength he drew from his connection. “Kill me, and you can end this.”

Veronika shook her head. “You were right about one thing, dear nephew.” She stood over Kala and touched her face one last time. With a smile, she pulled out a real dagger tucked on the inside of her jacket and drew it out of the sheath. “You’re not like everyone else.”

 _No_. “Kala!”

She pointed the dagger at the center of Kala’s chest, the tip hovering inches above her skin, and prepared to strike. “To you, Wolfgang, there is one thing worse than death.”

*

**_8:41 PM BPO, Control Room_ ** _(Will, Riley, Mavis, Miki, Henrik)_

It wasn’t Whispers sitting in the control room.

“Where’s Milton?” asked Will, eyeing the surveillance footages. There were about twenty or so monitor screens and a control panel with more buttons than he could count. Less than half of them seemed to be on. 

So Bug and the others were putting up a good fight against whatever hackers were trying to take down their defenses. Good.

All Will got in return, from the Headhunter sitting in Whispers’ place, was a cold smile. Cursing, he finished the man off seconds before he was to do the same. 

Will and his allies ran out of the room. Four guards, two at each side, trapped them in the middle of the hallway. The guards stood with guns in their hands, but they didn’t aim. They didn’t intend to shoot. Following Will’s lead, Riley, Mavis, Henrik, and Miki stood back-to-back, looking at the place from all angles.

What the hell did these guards want?

Heavy footsteps echoed from both ends of the hall, sluggishly uniform in rhythm. A few seconds later six Bolgers emerged from one end of the hall, their lifeless eyes trained on the targets they had been ordered to kill. 

The guards turned around and fired at the Bolgers.

“Run!” one of the guards shouted at Mavis, wrestling with two Bolgers at once. Their partner had managed to draw the Bolgers aside to clear the other end of the hall with enough of a gap for Will and the others to pass.

“Thank you!” Mavis shouted back before she ushered everyone else to pass, and they all sprinted down the hall.

Who _were_ those guards?

 _Veracity infiltrators,_ Mavis thought, answering the question before Will could ask out loud. His connections were back. His Blocker had worn off without his notice.

Will realized his calves were burning in pain as they ran out of eyeshot from the Bolgers. He had been running and fighting all evening, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand. His heels were sore. They might be close to bleeding. His hands were definitely bleeding, but he couldn’t feel much of the pain just yet. He didn’t want to know how bad it was. Not when their survival would depend on them running out of there alive.

But not without Whispers. If they let Whispers run free, all they had worked for would be lost. Will hoped he had enough strength left to finish the Headhunter off once and for all. But they had just been spared from one more fight, so he was hopeful.

The Veracity infiltrators may just have saved their lives.

“Hello, Will.”

Will froze at the sound of Whispers’s voice behind him. Riley, too, stopped abruptly and turned. Whispers emerged from one of the doors on the side of the hall. There had been no light inside the rooms. He must have been hiding.

“It’s over, Milt.” Will raised his gun and took a shot at Whispers’ head.

“Will, it’s not -” Henrik shouted, but Will had already fired at Whispers’ head. 

The bullet hit the wall. Whispers was visiting.

“Fuck!”

“I won’t make it so easy for you to catch me again.” Whispers appeared behind Will again. 

Will turned and stared into Whispers’ eyes. He imagined Whispers' mind was a flaming dagger cutting through ice. Will pushed on until he was surrounded by the cold, and the views from his own eyes faded, leaving him stranded in the Headhunter’s body.

Whispers was standing next to an elevator, looking at the fence, beyond which was the hollow space in the middle of the building, all the way down from the roof to the ground floor. The skylight. There was only one more floor above where Milton stood, which meant -

“I’m on the 15th floor,” Whispers answered. “And I’m waiting.”

Will doubted Whispers would stay and let him come finish him off. He found himself drifting away from Whispers’ body by force until he was a visiting form next to him.

“ _We’re_ waiting for you,” the Headhunter amended.

The elevator opened again, and two people in Hazmat suits emerged, Gina in tow. Whispers nodded in approval before he grabbed Gina by the shoulder and turned her around, pressing her back against his chest. He put a gun to her temple as he dragged her back until he was leaning against a pillar between two parts of the fences overlooking the skylight.

“Gina!” Henrik appeared next to Will and Whispers. 

Gina looked at Henrik, the panic apparent in her eyes. Whispers chuckled. “Oh, is that him? Is that Henrik?” Will heard the frantic voices in Gina’s mind as soon as he tried to see she had been un-Blocked, too. “I look forward to seeing you.”

And then Will’s consciousness was back on the ground floor, guiding his sore body as he and the others ran for the elevator. Henrik slammed his fist on the elevator button and shouted for it to hurry up.

 _One life or the other,_ Whispers thought. A memory of Henrik’s face flashed by their shared mind, then Gina’s, then Will’s own. _Which do you think your friend will choose?_

*

**_8:46 PM, BPO, Lower Level 2_ ** _(Sun, Mun, Kala, Wolfgang)_

Sun pushed the door open at the same time Veronika prepared to stab the dagger through Kala’s chest.

The unexpectedness of it all made Veronika freeze. Kwon-Ho fired a bullet just to the left side of the dagger, and Veronika jerked her hand back abruptly to avoid being shot. Her hand slipped when she staggered back, and the dagger clattered to the ground. She bent down to retrieve it. If they’d come a few seconds too late -

Sun’s thought was cut off when a Hazsuit made a grab for her body. She found herself launched into a wrestling match with the first of the five Hazsuits in the room. Her right hand gripped her stolen gun tightly, and, when the Hazsuit got a hold of her shirt, she twisted her arm back until the gun made contact with their flesh and fired. The Hazsuit loosened their grip on her as they fell.

Kwon-Ho, she now noticed, was side-stepping his way forward, shooting in the direction of the dagger so Veronika couldn’t pick it back up. He tried to aim for Veronika as he bent down to pick up her dagger himself, but Veronika moved too fast, scampering back on all fours. Her high-heeled shoes slipped on the ground, so she kicked them off and hid behind the protection of another Hazsuit.

The Hazsuit stood in front of Kwon-Ho, blocking his path. Sun tried to move around Kala’s reclining chair to get to Veronika from the other side, but a Hazsuit grabbed her by the arms. She stomped on their foot and pulled one arm free as she turned to face them. Usually, she would have finished her opponent off in seconds, but even with her stamina, her arms had begun to ache from all the fights she’d found herself in this evening, and she could barely stand, let alone throw them down on all fours.

Time to get creative. 

She grunted, pulled hard on the Hazsuit’s mask, and let go. They jerked back as the mask made contact with their face again like a slingshot. It gave Sun enough time to trip them over before she fired at their chest. Kwon-Ho, too, was growing exhausted. He batted off the attacks from the Hazsuit and remained steady on his feet, but he didn’t look like he could break past them any time soon.

“Sun!” Wolfgang shouted, his voice raspy as he thrashed in his chair. “Behind you!”

Sun dodged, but the Hazsuit had nicked her on the side with his pocket knife. It didn’t seem to hurt much. The blade probably didn’t cut deep enough for real damage. She ducked low, turned around, and butted the Hazsuit’s midsection with her head. His back clashed against the side of Wolfgang’s recliner with a thud, and he crumpled to the ground, groaning in agony until she finished him off with another shot.

“Let me up,” Wolfgang demanded.

She squatted and fumbled underneath the recliner until she found a button. The binds unbuckled around Wolfgang’s body like seat belts, but his wrists were still cuffed. Sun pulled out a bobby pin from her hair and unlocked the first cuff. Wolfgang leaped off the seat before she finished unlocking the second.

The moment Wolfgang was fully released, he screamed, grabbed a Hazsuit by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. Sun heard a sickening crunch before the Hazsuit crumpled to the ground with a broken neck. He kept launching kicks at the body as he cursed, and Sun noticed he was sobbing.

“Wolfgang,” she said, as gently as she could. She knew not to touch him in case he defended himself on reflex, but she moved closer, noting that her side was hurting a bit from where the Hazsuit’s blade had nicked her. “Wolfgang, _stop_.”

He stopped and turned back. Tears were streaming down his face, but Sun noticed he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Kala.

Kala, who lay on her chair without stirring.

Wolfgang ran over to free Kala from her binds. Before Sun could follow, she heard Kwon-Ho grunting in frustration. The Hazsuit he had been fighting was on the ground on all four, but they stubbornly clung to Kwon-Ho’s leg and kept him from moving forward. Veronika had picked up her dagger and thrust it forward -

Kwon-Ho picked up the Hazsuit by the shoulder like a human shield in the nick of time, and the blade sunk into their neck.

When Sun turned to look for Veronika, she saw a flash of blonde hair out in the hallway and knew they were too late. She had slipped away. Sun made a run for the door, but the pain in her side became unbearable. It tore at her flesh like a hook had embedded itself into her muscles, and she crouched on the ground and hissed in pain.

Apparently, the blade had cut her deeper than she believed.

The adrenaline rush from all the fighting had kept her mind off the cut, but now that the fight was done, it all came rushing back to her. Kwon-Ho took off his shirt, crumpled it into a ball, and pressed it against her wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. He scooped her up from, the shirt wedged firmly between his body and Sun’s. She scowled but didn’t have enough strength left to protest.

“Sun. _Sun_ , stay with me. Can you hear me?”

“Mm, yeah,” she mumbled, fighting to keep her eyes open.

Wolfgang was nearby, carrying Kala in his arms. They made for the door and were stopped by six more people in Hazmat suits. Suits that were stained with blood, Sun noticed as she tried to keep her eyes from closing. This was it. This was it for them. They -

“We’re here to escort you,” said one of the Hazsuits, pulling off her mask along with everyone else. The person standing next to her looked like she could be her twin. “Your hacker friend called for help.”

The connection in Sun’s mind was fading again. The next thing she knew — she was drifting in and out, talking nonsense, babbling over Kwon-Ho’s instruction to stay awake — they had come out of the elevator onto the ground floor. Kwon-Ho and Wolfgang carried Sun and Kala out through the front door, which no longer guarded by anyone. Paramedics were waiting outside with stretchers. 

Sun felt herself lying down for the first blissful time that evening, aware of her blood soaking through her clothes and the sheets on her stretcher. Someone was clutching her hand tight. Someone _else_ , or maybe it was the same person, was applying more pressure to her wound. She moaned in pain, biting back a curse.

“Stay with me, Sun.”

She forced her eyes to open again, fighting the temptation to sleep. Kwon-Ho was looking at her, a concerned frown on his face. Two paramedics were already working on her wound as a third pushed her into the ambulance.

“Sun. _Sun_!” Bug prompted. Sun didn’t realize she still had the Bluetooth device on her ear. She hadn’t heard Bug’s voice for who knew how long. Or maybe she had been too busy fighting to hear.

“Mm,” she mumbled in response.

Bug paused for a second and swore before he muttered, “Get Mun on the line.”

Kwon-Ho was still holding her hand. The paramedics were telling him to let go. Sun reached her free arm over to her head, every muscle protesting as she moved, and pried the device off her ear. It was fastened pretty tight, and she wondered if it had dug groves into her skin. As her eyes threatened to shut again, she squeezed Kwon-Ho’s hand firmly once, then held up the device for him to take.

“Hello? Bug?” she heard him ask before the door closed.

Relieved, she gave up resisting and closed her eyes. The ambulance was moving now. One paramedic was talking to her. It sounded urgent. Something about her staying awake, but she didn’t know if she said anything back. Possibly. She would have if she could.

As they drove away, Sun wondered if Kala was okay. Kala wasn’t moving when they got out of the building. _Maybe_ , said a treacherous voice in her mind before she fell unconscious, _you and Kwon-Ho were too late._  

*

**_8:49 PM, BPO, 15th Floor_ ** _(Will, Riley, Mavis, Miki, Henrik, Gina, Whispers)_

“Gina!” Henrik ran out of the elevator as soon as the door opened.

The real Whispers stood in front of them, leaning over the railing. A part of the fence, Will now noticed, had been broken off. Whispers was standing dangerously close to the gap, clutching Gina in front of his like a shield. Gina’s presence made him untouchable, and Will swallowed, trying to think of a way out without letting the Headhunter go scot-free. They raised their hands above their heads.

In their shared mind, Will sensed Gina’s fear. 

Whispers turned to Henrik and eyed him with great interest. “One life, in exchange for hers. Your choice.”

“Henrik, no,” Gina mumbled, her voice shaking.

“Let me make this easier, Henrik,” said Whispers. “Gina’s life, in exchange for Will’s.”

Riley stood protectively next to Will and grabbed his hand. It stung when her skin made contact with the cuts on his knuckles, but he didn’t want to pull away. Henrik looked like he might be sick as he looked at Gina, then Will. He closed his hand tightly around the gun in his hand.

Someone fired from the end of the hall. The bullet hit Whispers in the shoulder. Whispers dropped his gun, and his right arm hung uselessly on his side as he pressed his left hand over the wound. Gina ran over to Henrik and threw her arms around him.

“Jonas,” Whispers hissed.

Confused, Will made a move to pick up the gun Whispers dropped, but a bullet swished past his hand, barely missing his skin, and he jumped. 

Jonas.

It was Jonas who fired at Will. He was in a Hazmat suit with his mask off. He pointed the gun at Whispers but didn’t shoot again. “Step aside, Will,” said Jonas.

Will barely had time to ask Jonas what the fuck he was playing at before Jonas’ expression shifted to one of shock. Before Will could turn to look, he found himself tackled from behind. Will made a grab for his assailant’s gun before they could fire, dragging them both down. His knees crashed painfully against the ground, but he turned around and looked to see who had attacked him.

A Bolger bore down on him with lifeless eyes, her lobotomized status evident by the scar across her forehead. She clawed at Will’s chest, but he scrambled back with difficulty and pushed himself up, now with two guns in hand. He finished the Bolger off.

 _Will!_ He heard Riley’s call for help in their mind.

Frantically, Will turned, trying to see where she was. Then he was seeing through her eyes. A Bolger had cornered her against the wall next to the elevator, ready to shoot. Will let his consciousness drift back into his own body as he ran over to Riley and tackled her assailant from the side. His arms were sore from all the fighting he’d done earlier, but thankfully the momentum of his tackle was enough to knock the Bolger down, clumsy as it might have been, and Will finished them off.

Another Bolger made a grab for Will’s back collar before he could pick himself up from the ground. They pinned they him down again and pried both guns from his hands. He kicked behind his back and felt his foot collide with something solid — he hoped it was a joint or their jaw — and the Bolger let go. 

Will turned around, and Henrik pulled him up. He whipped his head around to see what was happening to everyone else, and the sound of Jonas’ screaming drew his attention to the fence overlooking the skylight. Before Will could run over to stop it, a Bolger had thrown him over the railing, down the hollow space all the way to the ground floor.

They were so far up, Will couldn’t even hear the thud of Jonas hitting the ground.

But the second Will turned back, his heart beating twice as fast, he saw someone else sneaking up behind Henrik, a Bolger woman. Will shoved Henrik aside just before she fired, once, twice. They dodged again as she fired a third shot and found themselves backed against the wall. _Fuck_. Will saw the Bolger woman toss her emptied gun aside.

“It can’t be, no, it’s not…” Henrik muttered.

The moment Will locked eyes with the Bolger woman, he realized he had seen her before. Not in person; in a photo, a photo hanging on the wall of the back stairs of the Paris safe house. Her brown eyes stared back at Will without emotions. If it weren’t for the too-familiar dimples on her cheeks, accentuated by a smattering of dark freckles that clashed against her grayish skin, it would have been impossible for Will to admit the woman standing in front of them was Damien’s mother.

But her lifeless eyes glossed over them both, showing no sign of recognition.

Henrik raised his gun to shoot her as she walked in front of them and pulled something else from her pocket. But Henrik’s hand was shaking. Will could hear him panic in his mind and knew he couldn’t pull the trigger. The moment Henrik lowered his arm, right before Will could make a move to take the gun from Henrik and shoot her himself, Damien’s mother had unfolded her pocket knife and thrust it forward, stabbing Henrik in the chest.

The gun clattered to the ground as Henrik fell. Will scrambled forward on all fours to grab it, but froze and screamed in horror when Damien’s mother — the Bolger — got down on her knees and pulled the knife out of Henrik’s chest, watching the blood spurt out of the wound. Will rolled aside as she brought the blade down to try and stab him, too. 

Will uttered an apology to Damien as he fired. He missed her head, but it hit her in the midsection, and when she fell he shot again, this time at her temple. The Bolger fell stiffly to the ground, devoid of all traces of who she once was.

In their shared minds, Will could feel Henrik’s presence slipping away. The last light in the room, vanishing into the dark space.

Will pulled himself up again and ran over to where Henrik had collapsed. 

Henrik had put a hand over his wound to try and stop the bleeding, but his hand was already covered in blood. Gina was kneeling in front of Henrik. She put her hand over his, trying to block the gaps between his fingers with her palm. “We’ll get you to safety, Henrik, you hear?” she muttered. “We need to move you. I can’t move you. But there’s still time…”

Henrik shook his head and drew a shallow breath. Will felt the moment Henrik gave up before he saw him pull his hand away. The blood flowed freely now, draining all color from his cheeks. _I’m sorry._

Gina pushed both her hands over the wound, but Henrik’s blood seeped relentlessly through the gaps between her fingers and underneath her palm. “Henrik, stay!” Gina pleaded. 

Her voice broke at the sound of his name. Blood crawled down Gina’s arms, mocking her as she tried to fight against death when Henrik had already lost. _Please… Stay._

_I love you._

For a second, their minds echoed as one. 

Henrik pried one of Gina’s hands away from his chest and laid his ring on her palm. Then his hand fell limp, and the light faded from his eyes.

“Help!” Riley shouted nearby.

Will turned to see Riley struggling against the hold of another Bolger — _shit_ , he thought they were all gone — who had pinned Riley on the ground and grabbed both her hands behind her back. Will shot the Bolger.

“Where’s Whispers?” Riley looked around as she pulled herself back up.

Will and Riley found Whispers lying unmoving nearby, facing the wall. Riley’s consciousness merged with his for a second, and a gasp told Will she saw what happened to Jonas. And someone had gotten Whispers, too. Will didn’t know who.

Miki let out a roar from where she stood, pulling herself away from her cluster-mate. The last Bolger, who had been trying to pin Mavis against the wall, didn’t stand a chance as Miki charged at him with only her fists and shoved him to the ground. Mavis tossed Miki the gun in her hand without a word, and she fired a dozen bullets at the Bolger’s head, screaming.

The elevator door opened with a creak. 

The sound would have gone unnoticed, had Will been standing further away. Whispers, who was apparently still _alive_ , was trying to slip by unnoticed and stagger in, one hand pressed against a nasty bullet wound on his side.

“Stop!” Will shouted. 

Will didn’t know if he could run fast enough to keep the door from closing. He was exhausted from fighting, and his head was spinning, and his vision was blurring, and he all but fell forward right between the elevator doors just as it was about to close, wedging himself in between. Numbing bursts of pain shot through the bone in his shin, which had made contact with the door at a very unfortunate angle. 

He stuck his hands out to break his fall, dropping his gun. His elbows hit the ground painfully, but all he had eyes for was Whispers. 

Whispers leaned against the corner and pointed his gun at Will with a shaky hand, wheezing and bleeding endlessly from his own wound. The elevator door opened wide again. Will rolled aside to dodge a bullet Whispers had fired at him. He scrambled forward with his good leg to try and reach gun he’d dropped.

 _I got it,_ Riley thought. 

Will let his consciousness drift over to Riley’s body. She was standing right behind him, holding a gun with shaky hands. He focused on the feeling of the trigger against Riley’s finger and directed her to fire at Whispers’ head before the elevator could close again. 

The bullet found its target right between Whispers’ eyes. 

As Will hopped out of the elevator, she pulled him into a tight hug. He tried to balance by standing on one leg. “Thank you,” he muttered and found himself tearing up.

“We did it.” He realized Riley was sobbing.

Outside the building, sirens blared through the streets, and paramedics rushed in from the other halls to take Henrik away. Gina followed blankly behind them, clutching Henrik’s ring tightly in one hand, Miki shuffling in close behind her. 

 _Henrik, please,_ Will heard Gina think. _Wake up._

*

**_8:58 PM, BPO, 6th Floor_ ** _(Hernando, Lito)_

When Hernando reached the 6th floor, he was surrounded by four guards in the stairwell before he could make a break for it. 

The guards pointed the guns at his head and marched him out into the hall. His hands tightened around the folders he’d stolen as thoughts raced through his head, disjointed, barely coherent ideas on how he could get himself out.

When Hernando found himself face to face with the woman Lito and his cluster had spent the past two months trying to hunt down, all notions of escaping had become significantly less likely to work out.

“Hand them over,” she demanded, walking close enough for Hernando to smell her perfume. She had no guns on her, but the sight of her made Hernando freeze. Her gaze was fixed on the folders in Hernando’s hands, sharp as a dagger.

Whether anyone was aware of his predicament, Hernando couldn’t be sure. He hoped Bug and the other hackers had decided to keep an eye on all the cameras along the halls as well as the interrogation rooms. He hoped Lito would _not_ stop at this level, but keep going, keep finding a way out. Or maybe Lito would realize what was going on and go and get help -

Hernando’s only option, he knew, was to stall. “T-this isn’t all of it.”

“Hand them over,” Veronika insisted.

“My friends are already out of the building,” Hernando lied. “They’ve taken the other files back to our base. Soon we’re going to alert the authorities.”

Veronika raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly did they escape? I have my guards and soldiers stationed at the front door.”

She was lying. She had to be lying. She wanted to get the truth out of Hernando, and she was watching for slight changes in his expressions. Actors, like Lito, could tell when people were lying. Maybe she could, too -

Hernando cleared his throat, hoping he came off as more bored than scared. “We have our ways. We’ve made it past your security before.”

“I’ve never seen you before.” Veronika narrowed her eyes. “You’re not part of the August 8 cluster. I have all the members accounted for.”

“They have more allies than you think. Hundreds of them.”

At that, Veronika rolled her eyes. “Veracity?’” She spat out the word with a scowl like it left a bitter taste in her mouth. “I snuffed out their infiltration weeks ago.”

Hernando forced himself to smile, suppressing his panic as he swallowed slowly. His mouth was dry, and in all likelihood, he was visibly shaking, but he hoped his nonchalance would deter Veronika enough for him to find a way to break through. “They’re still here. They helped us tonight.”

Veronika looked unfazed. “Then I’ll make sure they don’t leave this building alive.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” Hernando forced himself to smirk and hoped it was convincing. It came out as a grimace. “My allies already finished what they came here to do.”

Or, that was what Hernando had hoped. He didn’t know where the others were. Nothing was going according to plan tonight, and he didn’t know if their allies were even _alive_.

“It doesn’t matter if they’ve killed Milton.” She didn’t look the slightest bit deterred. “I’ve got more Headhunters than you can snuff out.”

 _You have to believe it,_ he recalled what Lito told him. _Lies are the most convincing when there’s some truth to what you’re saying, Hernando. You have to believe it, or others won’t._

His muscles were tense, but he forced himself to appear comfortable. He pretended he was in his element. He was giving a lecture, explaining a concept to a particularly unmotivated student who didn’t make much effort to pay attention to what he’d said. A lecture. That was all. Nothing life-threatening.

“We know more about your operations than you think, Veronika. The names of higher-ups like you. Most of the Headhunters, too. And we have evidence.” Hernando glanced down briefly at the folders still clutched over his chest.

Veronika’s nostrils flared. A surefire sign, he remembered from one of Lito’s rambles on micro-expressions, that his tactic was working. “I don’t believe you, _Hernando_.”

He gave a start upon hearing his name. Too late, he realized Veronika had been watching closely. She smirked when she saw that he was startled. 

“Oh, yes. Our hacker friends warned us about this,” Hernando tried to keep his voice from shaking. His vocal cord felt tense; he hoped he sounded calm enough to be believable. “They said you’d dig up all our biographies.”

“Hernando Fuentes,” Veronika recited. “Lecturer at the Academia de Artes. Boyfriend of Lito Rodríguez. Hardly the most heroic tale.”

“I think you will find that our definition of heroism differs a great deal.”

Someone peeked out from the corner of the wall at the end of the hall. Hernando’s glasses were cracked, blocking parts of his vision, but through one of the larger pieces balanced precariously on his lens, he made out a too-familiar face.

 _Lito_. 

None of the guards behind Hernando reacted. He hoped it meant they were too focused on keeping an eye on Hernando to notice Lito there. Lito hid behind the corner of the wall again. To divert Veronika’s attention, Hernando glanced furtively to his right-hand side towards the fence that overlooked the skylight, hoping to convince her he was trying to search for a way out. 

Veronika, noticing his gaze, snapped her finger and gestured to the folders in Hernando’s hands. He took a step back and backed right into one of the two guards, who snatched the folders away and grabbed him by the shoulders, locking him in place.

“Veronika, let him go!” Lito ran down the hallway, in full view of the guards. 

“Lito, no!”

The guards turned and prepared to aim their guns, but Veronika put up a hand to stop them. “No. Don’t let this one -” she nodded at Hernando - “get away.”

“Just _go_ , Lito,” Hernando pleaded. He tried to thrash and break out of the guards’ hold. All he got in return was the feeling of the cold pistol pressed against his temple.

“Let. Him. Go!” Lito repeated, standing his ground. “Take me. I’m part of the cluster -”

“No!”

Two Hazsuits ran down the hall, and before Hernando could shout another warning, one of them pressed the muzzle of their gun behind Lito’s head. The other cuffed Lito’s hands behind his back. They shoved him closer.

“Perfect.” Veronika looked at Lito and Hernando, the corner of her dark red lips twitching into a smile. 

Hernando’s heart stopped cold. “What are you going to do to us?”

“She’ll let you watch him die,” said one of the Hazsuits. He lowered the gun from behind Lito’s head. His voice sounded shockingly familiar.

Hernando saw the tiniest hint of a grin ticking at the corner of Lito’s mouth. Veronika startled at the sound of Wolfgang’s voice, but before she could get another word out, Wolfgang tore off the mask on his stolen suit and shot her in the head as their eyes met, two sets of identical ice-blues.

Veronika was dead before she hit the ground, the look of shock forever etched on her face.

Lito stepped forward and pulled Hernando down as a bullet swished past where his head had been moments ago. They launched into their final fight. Compared to the rest of this evening, Hernando was almost disappointed to say the battle ended before he could throw a punch himself. With only four guards left, Wolfgang and the other Hazsuit, who later revealed himself to be Detective Mun, made quick work of getting rid of them. 

Against all reason, Hernando stared at Veronika’s corpse as he bent down to retrieve the folders the now-dead guards had dropped in the fight. He hadn’t noticed Veronika was barefoot, but now he realized she had been looking _up_ at him when they talked. Without her cold smile and her cutting-edge voice, she seemed… almost harmless, like someone Hernando could pass on the street on his way to work, or someone who’d stand in front of him in line as he waited for his morning coffee.

It was hard to believe this woman had caused the deaths of thousands, and, if she had gotten away tonight, would have been responsible for the deaths of thousands more to come.

Wolfgang walked up next to Hernando and spared his aunt one last hateful glance. For a second Hernando thought Wolfgang might empty his bullets on her. He was looking at her body and the gun in his hand. But then he tossed the gun on the ground, turned away, and walked briskly down the hall, leaving everything behind.

When they stopped to pick up the folders Lito had left behind the corner of the wall, they found Will, Riley, and Mavis waiting there. Will was balancing on one leg, his brows contorted in pain, and Riley and Mavis were clutching a gun each, ready to pull the trigger in case of an emergency.

It was Lito’s idea, Mavis told Hernando on their way down, to have Wolfgang and the detective pose as Hazsuits. Wolfgang and the detective had been downstairs when Bug told them Lito’s plan. They had stolen the last two Hazmat suits out of the employees’ changing room and run into Will and the others on their way up.

Mavis sounded pleased that the plan all worked out, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes when she talked. Hernando didn’t dare ask what happened. He had a feeling she would tell him soon enough.

Two cars were waiting for them when they walked out of the back door — the front, Will pointed out through gritted teeth, was swarming with cops who had arrived on the scene. Riley and Mavis helped Will into the first. The second driver gave Hernando and the others a respectful nod, and Detective Mun climbed in the back, followed by Lito and Hernando. Wolfgang hopped into the passenger seat and muttered instructions to a nearby hospital. He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the evening.

As they drove away, Hernando looked behind his shoulder at the uniform rectangular structure. Save for the police, who would go inside to find the aftermath of a bloodbath and dozens upon dozens of dead bodies, no one could begin to imagine how many lives had been taken in this place tonight. Hernando wondered why it was that the inconceivable things always seemed to come from the mundane, and the horrifying crimes from the unassuming. 

“It’s over?” Mun asked quietly from the other side.

“It is.” Hernando sighed and reached for Lito’s hand. “And it’s not.”

He wondered if it ever will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW for depictions of torture.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> For those of you who had hoped for a happy ever after for everyone, I'm sorry. For those of you who suspected someone else might die, congratulations, you were right.
> 
> You'll find out the fates of everyone else (María, Sun, Kala, to name a few) next chapter, which, if all goes well, should be out by this weekend. Though I'm sure you can all deduce that no matter the outcome, it's not gonna be nearly as bad as this chapter. I'll certainly try to get chapter 37 out on time. I know you're all waiting to murder me, so I won't give you another reason to.
> 
> *Backs away towards the exit, and runs the fuck out of here, pushing past an angry mob.*


	37. The past is done with us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the August 8 Cluster celebrates their birthday and wonders what to do next.
> 
> “I want to believe that the past is done with us the moment we are done with it.”  
> — From S1E10, “What is human?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **An announcement about the timeline change:**
> 
> As my friend Savay (@fiftyeightminutes on tumblr) had kindly pointed out, the August 8 cluster had already celebrated their 28th birthday in the Christmas special. So this story should’ve taken place in 2017, and I’ve adjusted the timeline accordingly. Because the São Paulo Pride in 2017 took place on June 18th (it was May 29th in 2016), that means the dates are shifted back, too, since the cluster’s got to have a few days after Pride where shit happened before they all headed to London. 
> 
> There were a couple minor changes I made because of the shift in the timeline: chapter 1 took place 3 days after they kidnapped Whispers instead of a week after, and Kiira and Mavis, who were born in 1996, would be 21 instead of 20. Of course, I can only remember so many details, so if any of you find any more inconsistencies due to the timeline change, please let me know, thank you!
> 
> Plus I cut out a couple skipped-over days when I felt like it wouldn’t affect the plot so much either way so I could get this chapter to fall on their 29th birthday. And I did it! (Happy very belated birthday to them!)
> 
> Now, let’s see if everyone else is okay :)

**August 8, 2017**

The early morning train ride to Manchester was a silent one. 

The fatigue from all the fighting last night had caught up to Mavis, and she curled herself up in a corner in the private compartment she shared with Gina, Miki, Leon, and Genevieve. It was impossible to sleep. Voices echoed in her mind, over and around each other, fighting for attention. Voices from her past and present. Voices from memories that weren’t hers.

All Mavis wanted to do was forget last night ever happened.

Not the final confrontation with the man Will’s cluster called Whispers, of course. And not when she confronted Pelzer and put him in his rightful place, either; she’d dreamed about doing that for years. And Kolovi died, and Veronika, too. All in all, it should have been an excellent end to her revenge story, if it weren’t for the cost of a losing a friend.

 _But you all knew the risks, didn’t you?_ asked Morgan’s voice in her head.

She didn’t remember the last time she heard his voice. Around two years ago, maybe? When she’d left for London for what she believed could very well be a suicide mission.

Mavis forced the ill-timed irony out of her thought before the others could hear it, but none of them so much as stirred. They sat facing each other, their backs too stiff against the soft cushions of the chairs. Gina fiddled with the ring that was too large for her finger, eyes staring blankly ahead. A quick dip in their minds told Mavis what she’d suspected: they had closed off their connections in fear of the painful absence, trying to convince themselves that this was not real. The situation was too familiar, something Mavis had hoped she would never have to pay witness to again.

In two days’ time, one of them would have to pick up Henrik’s ashes.

The door to the safe house was left unlocked, but no hackers came to greet them. Most of them had gone home, save for Topher, who was packing upstairs, and María’s husband Andy, who had taken the earliest train to down London before dawn. They shuffled in without much sound, closing the door behind them with a final _click_.

“You’re back!” Damien shouted from the living room. He ran up to greet them but froze when he saw the catatonic look on their faces. A question lingered on his lips, but he closed them, forcing it back.

Meanwhile, Gina and the others stood there, still as statues.

Before Mavis could open her mouth to say something, _anything_ , he surveyed them with careful eyes and an inscrutable expression. “Are you here to say goodbye?”

It took Mavis a few seconds to realize this question was directed at her.

“Yeah. I - I’m - I’m going,” Mavis finished, swallowing hard. _Going home_. But home sounded like a cruel word to say when the boy had lost his.

Damien pulled her into a tight hug. She didn’t know where to place her hands and settled for a small pat on his head. “Did you kill the Headhunters?” he whispered. His voice was shaking, and a lump formed in her throat, too.

“We… You don’t have to hide anymore,” she told him, forcing back tears. 

“You did kill them. Good.” He drew his arms away. When he looked at her, there was a darkness in his eyes she never expected to see from a child. “Make them pay.”

“Damien -”

“What did they do?” He looked at Gina, and Leon, and Genevieve, and Miki. “What did they do? What happened to Henrik?”

Mavis found herself at a loss for words again. In another circumstance, she would have kicked herself, but at that moment, she froze, too. She couldn’t bring herself to say “they killed him”. A small part of her still believed only saying it out loud would make it real, not that it already was. 

But their silence was an answer all in itself.

“It’s not fair!” Damien stepped away. He looked at them and the stairs, his expression shifting into anger betrayed by tears. “ _It’s not fair!_ ”

Miki jolted from her stupor the moment Damien bolted upstairs and slammed the door. She ran after him, calling his name. In the back of her mind, she left a hasty _“take care”_ to Mavis.

 _It’s not fair._ The force of the truth in Damien’s words brought Gina out of her trance, too. Mavis felt a flood of emotions and voices and memories surging back into their minds at once. Leon and Genevieve looked on the verge of breaking, and a second later Gina was curled up on the ground, sobbing.

Pointed looks from Leon and Genevieve told Mavis this was a situation best left to the cluster alone. She gave them her condolences through her mind, comforts without words. They nodded and pulled Gina up from the ground, guiding her to the couch.

 _Take care_ , Genevieve thought as Topher came downstairs with a duffle bag. 

Mavis had a feeling Topher already knew what happened. Tears betrayed him, too, as they made their ways to the train station together, back to London. They were taking the same flight to New York in the evening — in Mavis’ case, followed by a layover to São Paulo.

“What about Damien's mom?” Topher finally spoke when their train passed through the countryside. He was looking out the window as he talked, not at her, and his breath fogged up the glass. 

She turned to face the outside, following his gaze. It was a familiar sight, a gentle landscape not unlike the one she saw on her train ride to Oslo only days ago, but now the grasses were too green, the clouds dense and suffocating. The last time she saw so much green, she and Damien were laughing on the train, placing whispered bets on when the insufferable lovesick fool that was Leon would do something about his crush on Genevieve. There were no deaths of allies and cluster-mates and families looming over their heads, only a stubborn determination to put an end to it all. 

“We saw her,” Mavis told him. She turned away from the window. The lushness of all the green was starting to sting her eyes. It was a rare, sunny sort of day. “Before Henrik -” _before Henrik died_ \- “she was there. With the other soldiers.”

Topher swore, shut his eyes and breathed deeply. “So she’s -”

“Gone,” she said quietly. There was no way to sugarcoat it. The woman she saw last night was nothing like the woman who sang in the early mornings and smiled too much. Nothing like the woman Gina and the others remembered. “It wasn’t _her_.”

“Did she… Did you kill her?”

 _Will had to kill her,_ she thought. He looked at her, surprised, but didn’t say anything. _Someone ordered her to kill Henrik. Topher, she killed Henrik._

He turned back from the window to face her. “Does Damien know?”

“Not yet. I couldn’t tell him. Not when he’s already so -”

Topher nodded before she could finish. “They’ll tell him.”

“Maybe Damien already knows.” She frowned. “Sometimes I feel like he knows more than he’s telling.”

 _Maybe_ , he agreed. Then they were silent again.

*

Will didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up that morning with his head on Riley’s shoulder, he felt the connection of their minds pulsing like heartbeats. It had come back all at once, and his brain tingled with excitement once he realized he was free. He was free. 

 _Free_.

That word, after being on the run for over a year, felt foreign to him. He’d never quite taken the time to contemplate what he was missing until his cluster-mates were roused from various states of consciousness.

He could feel Riley’s presence before he picked his head up and turned to face her. She was disheveled from lack of sleep, and there were tear marks her cheeks mixed with black mascara streaks. At the sight of him, she smiled, sniffling from a red nose.

Will reached for her hand, mindful of the gauze around his knuckles. The cuts still stung when he tried to bend his fingers. Her hand was cold to the touch, but he felt warm knowing she was there. With it, came the fear and anxiety of waiting to find out if Sun and Kala and Felix were okay after Will had given in to exhaustion. 

They were sitting in the hospital waiting room, and Will had rested his broken leg on a stool, the stiff cast binding his bone in place. His muscles burned eightfold with the aftermath of last night’s overexertion. They were all back. They were complete.

Soon, all their memories of last night joined together, overlapped, then branched off at various points, combining into a narrative of how he and his allies had come to bring BPO down on its knees once and for all.

At a price they didn’t know they had to pay.

There was one voice in Will’s head he had hoped he would hear. That voice would tell him last night was hazy, and he’d gotten more hurt than he’d ever care to experience in his lifetime, but everyone had been saved, and eventually, he came to. Will expected Henrik sitting beside them in the waiting room, running a hand through his incurably tousled hair as he complained about the lack of quality coffee in this hospital.

Henrik was very particular about his coffee. Gina had explained that his parents used to own a café by the Amstel. Will never did see a memory of that place — what little time he wasn’t Blocked, he spent trying to get his mind back behind the barrier. Perhaps he should, now that he could. And he could. Henrik’s mind was just there, within reach.

He shut his eyes and felt his consciousness halt in front of a void.

Will felt hot tear stinging his face, tears that were not his. Riley dabbed at her cheeks with her sleeves. “You don’t remember, Will?”

“I remember,” he told Riley. “I remember everything.” _But I wish I remembered wrong._

“Kala and Sun woke up a few minutes before you.” She stroked his head, trying to draw his attention away. Henrik’s last smile flashed through her mind briefly, but she pushed the memory aside. “They’ll have to stay for a few more days. Felix, too.”

Will closed his eyes and saw what happened to Kala through Wolfgang’s eyes. He let himself slip into Kala’s body for a few moments. She was awake, and she was looking at Wolfgang, who had fallen asleep face-forward with his head on the edge of her bed. Bandages were wrapped snugly around her aching chest, plastering her skin with some kind of healing cream. Will took a few painful breaths in her place before he let himself go over to Sun.

Instead of being in Sun’s body, Will found himself standing at the side of her bed… next to Detective Mun, who was looking at her with a dopey smirk that would put Felix to shame. The detective was fighting sleep as he nodded off into his cold mug of hospital coffee. Will felt a painful pull at his side and winced, knowing Sun had gotten slashed with a blade. 

 _I’m fine,_ Sun thought before Will could ask.

With a nod, he let himself go back to Riley. “What happened to Felix?”

“Stabbed by a Bolger. Dani’s been here all night. But he’s stable. He’ll be okay. The blade didn’t go through anywhere fatal.”

“God.” He groaned. “I can’t believe he got tangled up in all this -”

“I know, Will.” Riley shook her head. 

And Felix wasn’t the only one who suffered the consequences of being their ally. The moment he let himself remember what the war had cost, the memories of the last Bolger shooting came surging back. He saw a flash of Jonas’ face, Whispers’ cold smile, and Henrik his hand letting go of the unfixable wound on his chest, and blood, so much blood -

“Will.” Riley’s hand tightened around his, drawing him back. 

“I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I should have protected him -”

She shook her head. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“I survived.” His voice cracked. “I survived last night, and I’m here. What kind of cop am I? He should be here too.”

“No one should have had to die,” she agreed. “But it wasn’t you who pulled the knife.”

All of this, Will knew, was true. It was a Headhunter who had ordered the kill using the Bolger, using _Damien’s mom_ , as their pawn. But Will had started it all when he declared war on Whispers. Henrik had been safe before Will and the others showed up -

Riley’s voice brought him back again. “This is the last life they’ll ever take.”

He took a deep breath. “It will be. We’ll make sure of it.”

But it wasn’t only the dead who had been lost. What about the ones they’d left behind? What about Gina, and Damien -

“When you rushed into the elevator to go after Whispers, I was worried I’d lose you, too,” she told him, her voice breaking, pulling him out from the vicious cycle of self-blame. 

Will tried for a smile, but it couldn’t convince her when he couldn’t even convince himself. “I’m here,” was all he could say.

“You are.” She squeezed her hand.

He felt grief pulling at the edges of Riley’s mind, left by her past memories of loss. She was pushing it away, but echoes of it remained, crouching at dark corners, biding their time.

“Hey,” he ran his hand up her arm, “Riley, look at me.”

Their eyes met.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Saying it made it real, and a smile formed on Will’s face before he knew it. He was there. So was she. They were safe. They pulled through. On second thought, he added, “Literally. I can’t go anywhere.”

Riley looked frozen for a second before she broke into a small chuckle. “You’re _terrible_.”

He shrugged. “I’m guessing police work is out of the question.”

“Will!” she chastised, then rolled her eyes when she realized he wasn’t serious. “You remember what the doctor said. The cast doesn’t come out for another two months.”

“Two months sounds good.”

“For what?”

His hand found hers again. He ran his thumb over the fire opal on her ring and grinned. “Do you know this ring has a matching wedding band *****? The storekeeper saved it for me.”

She shook her head, looking exasperated. “Did you have it all planned out?”

“Maybe?”

“So when are we picking it up?”

“How about -” he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close, planting a kiss on her temple - “right before our two months honeymoon?”

*

Dani didn’t know how long she spent watching Felix from a chair by his hospital bed. The ambulance had taken them to a nearby hospital — a private one, apparently, with staff who knew not to ask too many questions. A small part of her mind wondered if one of the hackers had set it up this way on purpose. But between the rush to get Felix to surgery, and the waiting, and the adrenaline rush wearing off, she never had time to answer her own question. Her muscles ached as she squirmed in her uncomfortable chair, wondering if Felix had ever been so pale, or if it was just the sheets.

“Hi,” Felix mumbled. He opened his eyes widely and studied her face. “You look like hell. Have you even slept?”

She wanted to punch him on his good shoulder, the one that wasn’t in a sling. If he weren’t lying down right now, she would have. “Felix, you need to stop scaring me like this.”

Dani saw the signature twitch between his brows, something he always did before he decided to say something cheeky to get her to roll her eyes. “It’s not my fault that zombie decided to pull a knife on you.”

“It _is_ your fault for stepping in,” she retorted. She didn’t roll her eyes. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

He gave her his best approximation of a one-shouldered shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

“Thank you.” She reached for his hand.

The cheeky look was back. Felix traced the lines on her palm with his finger. “You should know, I am nothing if not a good human shield.”

“Felix!”

“Well, I am!” Felix insisted. “I got the job done, didn’t I?”

“You almost got yourself killed!”

“He was aiming for your heart,” he said, the grin fading from his face.

Her eyes softened. Count on Felix to pay attention to her surroundings better than herself, never mind that they were in the same fight. “Well, then,” she tried her best to sound lighthearted, mindful that her voice was shaking a little. “Consider yourself my hero.” 

“Mm.” Felix didn’t bother to hide how smug he looked. “Dani’s Hero. I like the sound of that. I’m getting better at this fighting thing.”

She groaned. “ _Please_ stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Fighting.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “No more fighting, alright?”

Felix chuckled. “Well, I think we got rid of the worst of them last night. So, sure.”

“You promise?” she asked, half-serious. Getting Felix to stop picking fights was like getting Wolfgang to stop brooding. But she could try. He wasn’t dying on her.

“I’m not sure I should be trusted to watch myself. I think you need to supervise me.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “No more fighting from you. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded and looked at her again like he was scrutinizing her expression. The intensity of the gaze made her feel self-conscious about the raccoon-like smudge around her eyes where perfect mascara and eyeshadow used to be.

“What happened to the little girl? From Leicester Square?” He asked.

“Mun said he saw her get into a police car. The cops said something about finding her dad.”

“Poor kid.” He shook his head.

She sighed. “All this, just because someone felt threatened by people like Lito.”

“It’s not over, is it?” he asked, but she suspected he already knew the answer. “We killed the top dogs in the pack. But we left a fucking mess to clean up.”

“Nomi says they’re working on a plan to reveal everything over the years,” she recalled. “She, Bug… and the other Veracity hackers.”

Nomi and Amanita had come to the hospital at three in the morning to check on everyone after they had explained the situation to the sensates they rescued. Leon and Genevieve had stayed behind, having felt Henrik’s death from across the city. Capheus had volunteered to keep an eye on them.

Felix, she realized, didn’t know what happened to Henrik just yet. She had cried for him last night, for the kind-hearted man she’d come to respect as a friend and ally. They all had — those who were not in surgery, anyway. Come morning, they had run out of tears.

“They can’t break the news at once,” Felix agreed. “People are gonna freak out. They always do. And sensates haven’t left the best impression with those zombies.”

“It’s never gonna end.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the side of his bed. Her eyes were threatening to close, but she forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes again. “There’s always gonna be people like Veronika.”

“Yeah. But there’s always gonna be people like us, too.” He gave her that one-shouldered shrug again. “Wolfie’s still Wolfie, psychic powers and all. Just… with more friends.”

She gave a tired laugh.

“I’m serious. The guy was a loner before I took him under my wing.”

“Sounds like Wolfgang,” she mumbled, demanding herself to stay awake.

“I’m getting used to it, anyway. His whole freaky brain-connection thing.”

“That’s good. Me, too.”

Dani remembered all the weird little things Lito used to do, things she’d written off as one of Lito’s many quirks. She wasn’t wrong; the connections were part of him, and now that she knew she’d been living with a sensate all along, she couldn’t imagine why some people would see his existence as something to fear. It was just… _Lito_.

“It’s a good thing we’re on their side, Dani,” Felix declared. “They’d be lost without us.”

She mumbled something in agreement to what he said. Last night’s sleep deprivation was seriously getting to her, but she wanted to be here, to be talking to Felix for longer. An irrational part of her feared Felix would disappear the next time she opened her eyes.

The next thing she knew, Felix was shaking her by the shoulder. She cursed herself for giving in to exhaustion and sighed in relief when she saw he was still there. “Sleep,” he told her.

“’M fine,” she insisted.

He snorted. “Come on.” He scooted over in his bed. “Plenty of space for two.”

That made her sit up with a jolt. “Felix!”

“I’m _joking_ ,” he said, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gave away that he wasn’t. At least not entirely.

Dani had to admit, the prospect of sharing the bed didn’t sound quite as scandalous when she was too fucking tired to care. “Lito’s gonna kill you if I do that,” she explained — quite truthfully, really, considering what happened the last time Lito and Felix had had a conversation related to her. “So for the sake of your safety, I won’t.”

That seemed like a good enough answer for him. “Alright. I’ll miss you.” He had a sad look on his face, and it made her feel like she’d kicked a friendly but rambunctious puppy. “Go back to the hotel or something, wherever Nomi said we were gonna stay.”

She stood up and headed out. “See you in a few hours.”

“Dani!” he called after her. She stopped, quirking an eyebrow. He nodded at the front of her blouse. “You might wanna cover up those blood stains.”

It was only when Dani reached the ground floor that she realized she never got the chance to tell him about Henrik. But too late now. She walked on, deciding to break the news to him when she came back later. Seeing what was about to happen in the world at large _and_ in their personal lives, this may very well be the last bit of peace they’d get for a long time.

*

Kala woke up to a stark white room sometime between morning and noon, and her first thought was to fall back asleep. Her lungs burned, and the gauze wrapped tight around her chest, chafing her skin.

“Kala.”

Wolfgang stood up in his chair and leaned over, his face blocking the too-bright fluorescent light as he took her hand. She smiled. He frowned for a second as he studied her face, and she felt his presence in her mind. Then the lights were dimmed, and his expression shifted from relieved to guilty.

If it weren’t so hard to breathe, she would have sighed.

“She was going to kill you,” he mumbled. His face betrayed only the slightest hints of emotions, but she knew he was trying not to cry. 

In their shared minds, the rest of their cluster kept their distance. Will appeared for a few seconds, mostly to check on her, and left silently after patting Wolfgang on the shoulder. With only Kala tuning in to his presence, Wolfgang let his mask falter. 

 _I’m okay, Wolfgang,_ she thought. 

“Veronika was going to kill you. She was going to stab you in the chest. And they bound me in a chair, too, and there was nothing I could do, and they made me watch -”

Kala shut her eyes and willed her consciousness away from her body. She stood in front of him, then knelt, taking his hands. _Wolfgang, I know what happened._

He swallowed and pulled her onto his lap. She sat there and leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling the underside of his chin with her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She drew her hand away and reached out to swipe a tear from his cheek. _Don’t -_

“I should have stopped her. She was this close. If Sun hadn’t come in -”

 _Please, Wolfgang. You have spent your whole life apologizing for what your family has done_ , she cut in, sensing he was about to spiral again. _You have nothing to apologize for. It was Veronika, not you._

Kala could tell he was still sorry. Sorry he didn’t get to save her sooner.

Wolfgang shook his head. “It was because of me -”

_No. It was me._

He frowned, surprised.

_They locked me up somewhere else. But I went out to look for you. That’s how I got caught. That’s why they put me in with you._

She showed him the memory, of her tossing out the lava grenade as a distraction before stumbling out to the hall with Lila and Marcela. She showed him how they held their own against the guards, how Lila’s cluster-mates had come just a little too late, how Veronika had set Marcela up, so she unwittingly killed two of her own cluster.

Maybe Veronika would have moved her into Wolfgang’s torture chamber eventually, either way, she added as an afterthought. She pushed the thought away before Wolfgang could hear. It didn’t matter what could have happened, only what did.

She felt her eyes trying to close. Whatever painkillers they put her on was trying to draw her back in, but she made herself stay for a bit longer, relishing in the fact that he was here, and they were back, connection and all.

“I never wanted you to be tortured like I was.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter. 

 _That was different,_ she thought immediately. 

“It wasn’t.” To Wolfgang, Kala’s pain always felt worse than his own.

 _You were tortured for over a week!_ She looked at him, horrified. Being electrocuted herself had given her a new level of fear for what Wolfgang must have gone through, only worse. _My Ganesha. I don’t know how you survived._

He tensed, shutting out his own memories. “I didn’t want them to find you. Any of you.”

As Kala fought with her mind, trying not to give into the temptations of sleep just yet, she could hear him blaming himself for giving her up. For caving to his weakness and thinking about her when he should have shut the memories of her away.

 _Please don’t punish yourself for loving me, bhediya,_ she thought as her consciousness drifted into her body once more. She braced herself for the burning pain in her lungs, but they still hit her hard. She did her best to hide her wince. _If they had caught me instead of you, I would have done the same._

Wolfgang nodded. Deep down, Kala knew he was getting closer to believing she was right. They’ll get there one day. “You’re safe now,” he said.

_I am. And so are you._

She felt him take her hand, and squeeze it once. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

*

Kwon-Ho was staring at Sun when she woke. Sun let out a long and exasperated sigh before she could help it, and his concerned frown turned into a knowing smirk that made her want to punch him, if only there weren’t a needle on her hand fixed to IV drip.

“Good to see you back,” he said, scooting closer to her bed in his chair.

“ _Ugh_ ,” was her reply.

“Still hurts?” he looked at where her injury must have been, hidden underneath white sheets. 

Sun realized, quite treacherously, given the timing, that he was shirtless except for a borrowed jacket he draped over his shoulders like some sort of cape. Her eyes drifted to the two scars on his midsection, one more recent than the other. He noticed where she was looking before she could pull her gaze away.

He smirked. “Ahh. Yeah. Funny how they always seem to go for the same spot.”

She felt a tinge of guilt, knowing her brother was responsible for the more fatal of the two wounds. “I’m sorry about my brother.”

Kwon-Ho shook his head, and his smirk faded. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“For, uhh -” he scratched his head, inevitably flexing his biceps, _not_ that she was looking - “not wearing a bulletproof vest when I went to confront your brother?”

Sun let out a snort before she could stop herself. He quirked an eyebrow, and she shot him a deadly glare that shut him up before he could speak. He settled for putting on the jacket properly, zipping it up to hide the scars.

“You should have,” she agreed. She remembered what happened when Wolfgang went on an all-out shooting spree at his uncle’s, and bulletproof vests would have saved those guards’ lives if it weren’t for Kala. “For a police officer, you are too reckless for your own good.”

“Well, for a fugitive, you’re pretty snarky when you’re talking to a cop.”

That was a fair comeback. Sun shrugged, conceding. “I know you would not simply take me back. You are too curious. You would have wanted an explanation.”

“Should I be concerned that you know me so well, Miss Bak?”

There it was again. The old name. The name he called her when he was trying to question her about something. The name that made Sun roll her eyes and walk away. “You don’t do anything to hide your expressions,” she explained. “It makes you easy to read.”

“Funny. My teacher back in the police academy said the same thing.”

“Then you should listen to your teacher.” _And stop pestering me,_ her mind supplanted. A smile was threatening to betray Sun as she remembered their little conversation before their rematch at the graveyard, but she forced it back.

Kwon-Ho, on the other hand, did nothing to restrain his own smile. “That’s something else you’re better at than me. Being difficult to read.”

“Is that so?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. You can pretty much read my mind, Sun - no pun intended,” he added when she tutted her tongue, annoyed. “When I came to England, you knew I wouldn’t insist on taking you back to Korea right away. And before, when we talked on the phone, you knew what action I would want to take to put your brother in jail. Also, you know my favorite chocolate -”

“That was Nomi, not me,” Sun cut in.

“Nomi, huh?” He laughed. “Yeah. See? Another reason I should be afraid of you. She’s in your head, and she knows more about me than my brother.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with your brother?”

He cringed. “Great guy. Terrible gift-giver. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Sun nodded, a silent promise, and he beamed. The smile pulling at her mouth finally betrayed her as she found herself smiling back at him, too late to stop herself.

Kwon-Ho had a way of putting people at ease. He may not have been good at hiding his own emotions, but he had a way of uncovering the emotions inside others. So the joke slipped out of her mouth before she could find a reason not to say it. “I believe that makes him a much better brother than mine.”

“Then you deserved a better brother.” 

She shrugged. “It is no use to dwell on what should have been. We all go on with our lives based on what we were given. Our choices shape who we are, more than our pasts.”

“Then I’m sorry I didn’t choose to arrest your brother sooner. I feel like we failed you.”

Kwon-Ho was wearing that sad look again, the one that made Sun feel just a little bad for getting on his case about… well, everything. She hated to admit it was working. But it was.

“No. I turned myself in.”

“You did.” He frowned. “And when I was investigating your case, I wondered why.”

“Do you still want to know?”

He looked surprised that she was volunteering something about herself, something so personal. After she realized what she said, she was surprised at herself, too. But she didn’t want to take it back, even though there was no logical reason for her to divulge anything to him. She just… wanted to.

“If you want to tell me,” he said finally, “then yes, I’d like to know.”

“Before my mother passed away, she made me promise to take care of my brother. She also made me promise to help support my father when she couldn’t be there. So I wanted to honor her last wish. This is why I turned myself in. The company could not have survived the scandal if my brother was the one found guilty of embezzlement.”

“You did it for your mother.” 

He looked at her without blinking, the usually upturned corners of his mouth tense as he came to the realization. Sun knew he had seen her at her parents’ grave. If he had pulled up her records, which any officer would have done, he would have known when she died. Really, he knew a lot about her past.

But knowing the facts wasn’t enough. Kwon-Ho wanted to know the person behind the records. This was why they were here.

“I gave her my word.” Sun remembered her conversation with Capheus before she turned herself in. “And I did not want my last words to her to become a lie.”

“So what changed?”

“My father. He couldn’t live with the guilt of having me go to prison in my brother’s place.”

Kwon-Ho nodded. “I saw his appeal. But the court never agreed to another hearing.”

She sighed. “Do you know why?”

“I have speculations based on the limited evidence I have. It’s enough to keep your brother locked up at the moment, but when you give us your side of the story, I’ll know.”

This, Sun supposed, was as far as she could get to a “yes” from a cop.

“I also have speculations about why you ran. Why you escaped from prison,” Kwon-Ho continued. “I believe it all connects back to your brother.”

“A reasonable deduction,” she said, her face betraying no emotions once more.

He paused for a few seconds, studying her. That was what she believed, anyway. She had a feeling he knew more about her than he let on, though his impressions of her were more speculations than truths — much like what he knew about her case itself.

For now.

When he spoke again, his eyes grew softer, and he looked down at his hands like he was afraid to meet her eyes. “I know the world’s not fair, Sun. This is why I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to _make_ it fair, as much as I can. I still do.”

Sun’s expression softened, too. She knew a certain cop in her own cluster who wanted to do the same. Spending time in his mind had given her a new perspective on people like this. People who wanted to help.

“Kwon-Ho,” she prompted. He looked at her, and she saw his shoulders relax when he realized she wasn’t about to make a snarky remark about how naïve he was, or roll her eyes. She wanted to understand him, too. “The system may have failed me, but you didn’t.”

His eyes traveled down to her sheets again, lingering over the spot where her stitches sat, itching underneath layers of gauze.

“This inter-species war is an entirely new problem,” she said. “One the world has to address, but not at the moment. And I do believe you saved my life, so thank you.”

“You’ve saved me last night, too. Likely more than once.”

She gave the slightest hints of another smile to tell him he was welcome. “I will come back to Korea with you after I recover,” she promised. “But no handcuffs. And no reporters.”

“You have Nomi. I believe something discreet can be arranged.”

“You trust us to do it?” she asked.

“I trust you.”

He didn’t ask her if she trusted him, but she knew he had already guessed the answer. Now that she knew the detective as Kwon-Ho, she believed that if anyone were to put her brother in his rightful place, it would be him.

Speaking of putting people in their rightful places -

“Are they dead?” she asked. “Veronika and Whispers?”

The moment she asked, memories that weren’t hers flashed by her mind, recollections of last night’s battle through the eyes of the other. She knew the answer before he opened his mouth again.

“Your cluster says the Headhunter is dead. And I saw your German friend shoot Veronika.” His expression faltered, “And -”

“I know about Henrik,” her voice shook. _And Jonas._ She didn’t know what to feel about Jonas, but a part of her still mourned the man, the mentor, who had taught them most of the things they knew about being a sensate.

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

“The world isn’t fair,” she echoed what he said, holding back a tear.

Kwon-Ho nodded. “You’re making it fairer. All of you who fought last night. I might be an outsider, but I know it saved a lot of people. People like you.”

She hummed, not knowing what she’d make of all this. It was a strange feeling, being called a hero. “People like you, too.”

“Like me?”

“Yes.” Sun met his eyes again. “People who accept us.”

*

Kiira had fallen asleep halfway through their drive into the Borough of Camden. She had given Capheus an address at noon, after they had swapped the van they robbed last night with a rental car. _Patience, Capheus. You’ll see when we get there,_ she’d said, when he’d tried to sneak into her memories and see why she wanted them to go there.

When he stopped at a red light, Kiira mumbled something in French in her sleep and turned to face the window, slightly curled up despite the seat belts binding her to the passenger seat. He watched her with a smile, thankful that they had pulled through.

He couldn’t say the same about their friends.

After Nomi and Amanita debriefed the sensates who was almost kidnapped and made their acquaintance, Mavis had come to collect Leon and Genevieve from the safe house. But by then their Blockers had worn off, and they had been unresponsive for almost an hour, tears brimming in their eyes. They had all left for Manchester in the early morning to find Damien. Capheus had wanted to say something to console them before they left, but _sorry_ wasn’t going to bring Henrik back. So he settled for _goodbye_.

“There isn’t much you could have said,” Kiira mumbled, eyes still closed. 

Capheus continued driving when the light turned green. With both of them un-Blocked, open, her thoughts swarmed around his, occupying the spaces in his mind reserved just for her. “What did it feel like?” he asked. “Losing one of your cluster?”

The words came out before he could find a way to replace them with euphemisms. Not that it would have helped. The drawback of being a sensate was that no matter what you ended up saying, the emotions behind a question cut just as deep.

“You know the always-occupied space in your shared mind you’ve grown accustomed to?”

“I do.” Capheus thought about the days when his voice was the only voice in his head. It felt like looking at a different version of himself. The days when he was on Blockers made him feel like he was always speaking to an empty room that echoed too loudly.

Her presence flickered in his mind for a second, drawing out his thoughts, then slinking away before he could catch on. He doubted he ever could — she’d had years before him to perfect her sensate skills. “When one of you dies,” she said finally, her eyes staring at the road ahead without looking, “the echo never leaves.”

“Even when the others are there?”

She smiled, knowing but sad. For a second, she let Capheus into her mind. He heard languages he didn’t have time to recognize, most of which sounded relieved at Kiira’s presence. “ _Especially_ when the others are there.”

The application on his burner phone chimed, signifying the end of their route. Capheus jumped and almost took his hands off the steering wheel — he could never get used to this “GPS” thing. She pointed at an unassuming apartment building across the street. He parked in the nearest space, hoping the cash Nomi had given him would be enough to cover the fee.

“How did you do it?” he asked as they approached the building. “How do you manage?”

“You come to accept the echo as part of the mind you share. As a new normal.” 

Their eyes locked for a second, and she knew he understood without having to ask. “Did having the others help?”

She nodded, raising her hand to press the buzzer. “They did. Liam helped, too.”

Before Capheus could recall the photo of Liam she had shown him back in Paris, the man in question appeared. He had all but thrown the front door open, and Kiira greeted him with a giant tackle-hug that sent him nearly crashing into the bike rack behind him. Capheus watched on with a chuckle, her enthusiasm bubbling into his. “Liam!”

“Oi! That was my ribs!” A beaming Liam picked her up and placed her behind him on top of some steps. “Good to see ya, sis.”

“Liam, this is Capheus.”

The redheaded man turned to look at Capheus, and his beam grew wider. “Capheus!”

“It’s good to meet you.” 

They shook hands. Liam’s grip was firm against his. So was Kiira’s when she and Capheus first met. Their family resemblance was starting to come through.

Kiira, meanwhile, had already skipped ahead, climbing up the stairs two steps at a time with a spring in her steps. They followed, exchanging amused smirks.

Liam’s apartment was small but cozy, just furnished enough to feel lived-in without crowding the space with too much. Several posters and sketches hung on the walls alongside playbills from various plays in the West End. A sketching pad lay in the middle of a cluttered desk off to one side, plugged into a computer with a giant screen. Kiira had told Capheus that Liam worked as a freelance graphic designer after Sixth Form — to the exasperation of their professor parents, he had never been much for academics.

An open suitcase lay in the middle of the living room, and bags of half-unloaded groceries huddled next to the fridge. Clearly, Liam had come back from his safe house not long ago.

“Tea?” Liam asked as they sat down at the round kitchen table on opposite sides, offering Capheus a tray of scones.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Kiira plopped down between them with the kettle in hand and made their tea the way they liked without having to ask. They ate in comfortable silence, save for Kiira’s occasional giggles. She had apparently discovered Capheus’ memory of the last time he had proper, homemade English tea at Riley’s place.

“Where’s mom and dad?” Kiira asked through a mouthful of scones.

“In the café.” Liam stirred his tea.

“The one across the street?”

Liam turned to Capheus. “I asked them to wait a bit. Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Capheus nodded, grateful he wasn’t bombarded with all of the Andersons at once. Not that he had much time to get nervous, thanks to Kiira’s secrecy. Kiira gave him a wink.

“Thank you.” Capheus twirled the mug in his hands.

“So,” Liam initiated the conversation again, “big showdown last night?”

“Massive.” Kiira sighed. “But we lost someone. One of our allies.”

Liam’s grin immediately faded. “Oh, Kiira, I’m sorry -”

“Best not mention this to mom and dad,” she cut in. Capheus knew it was something she didn’t want to get into just yet. At the moment, he heard her think, she was someone who could finally see her family, who could finally go home.

“No, ‘course not,” Liam agreed, sensing the finality in her voice. “Are you hurt at all?”

Kiira shook her head, and Liam looked at Capheus, who realized the question was directed at both of them. “We’re okay,” he said.

“Good.” Liam looked them over again, just to be sure. “I, uh, I saw you on YouTube,” he told Capheus.

“You saw my speech?” Capheus felt his cheeks warming up. No matter how much of a natural Jela claimed he was, he didn’t think he could ever get used to this publicity.

“Aye. After Her Majesty here -” he threw Kiira a mock-glare - “finally decided to message me and inform she wasn’t dead, -” Kiira stuck out her tongue - “she told me about you. Said it was your cluster who rescued her.”

Capheus cringed. “I didn’t even know BPO took her until my allies got back with her -”

“It _was_ his cluster, and Mavis,” Kiira cut in again. “I think he got quite lucky with their collection of skills.”

And just like that, Kiira had eased his guilt back in. Capheus smiled, grateful his sister was there to buffer the tension. _Jealous?_

 _You wish,_ she teased. “They’ve even got a hacker.”

“And I thought you bursting into Mandarin one day was odd,” Liam grumbled. “So, the blokes who caught you, they’re all dead?”

Kiira and Capheus exchanged a smug sort of look. “We took down the worst of them,” Capheus told Liam. “And we have evidence to incriminate the rest.”

Liam joined in on the unspoken celebration. “Serves them bloody right.” 

The “no one messes with my sister” part was left unsaid, likely for Capheus’ sake. But the two big brothers shared a look, understanding.

“I’m free.” Kiira helped herself to another scone. “No more Blockers.”

“Got all your head-voices back, have ya?”

“Mm.” She swallowed. “My cluster misses you.”

Liam waved at the space behind Kiira. “Hi there, cluster.”

“They’re not here. They’re asleep.” Kiira rolled her eyes at the same time Liam’s phone buzzed. He checked the message.

“Still can’t get used to invisible people roamin’ ‘round my flat all the time,” Liam said to Capheus, clearly an attempt to include him in the conversation. “ _My_ bloody flat. Where I _sleep_. Dunno how you do it, mate.”

Capheus didn’t know how to respond, as much as he appreciated the gesture. So he settled for a nod, silently hoping one of his cluster could jump in to help. “Well, I’m used to it. Sometimes I’m one of those invisible people,” Nomi said in his place, then disappeared back into London after a quick _you’re welcome_.

Kiira gave Liam a “you’re overpowered” sort of smug look, effectively inducing a groan. “I’m surrounded by superhuman humans.” He threw up his hands. “Fantastic.”

“Who was that?” Kiira looked at his phone.

“Oh! Right.” Liam sat up straight again. “That was mom and dad. They asked if we wanted to join them at the café.”

The siblings gave Capheus an expectant look. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What was up with him today? He was never one to be at a loss for words… much. So he nodded again, wishing Nomi or Lito or _someone_ who knew the right thing to say could stay with him. But for this particular instance, his cluster had all decided to give him space. 

“Uhh, y-yes, of course,” he blurted out. He tried to appear eager. He probably ended up sounding nervous, which he admittedly was. What if they didn’t like him?

Kiira gave him the mind-equivalent of a tut of her tongue, part-sympathetic, part-teasing. “Mavis will be back in another two hours,” she said to them both. Then, to Capheus alone, “She promised last night that she’d join us and come say goodbye.”

This was one of the times where it would be appropriate for Capheus to just nod. So he did.

Silence overtook them again as they walked downstairs. Liam held the door open for Capheus to go ahead. They stood outside the building as Kiira pointed out the café to Capheus, but hesitated before heading over.

“No one say a word about _how_ we overthrew BPO,” she ordered, looking at them both.

Liam whistled. “Why, did you have to kill someone to get away?”

Kiira’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Mm. I’m not sure. I lost count after two.” She strode across the street, an incredulous Liam following behind with his mouth open. 

“Two?!”

“Two,” she confirmed. “Two dozen.”

Capheus could tell Liam wasn’t serious when he’d asked, but at the look of shock on the younger man’s face, he couldn’t help but join in — a shared joke just between him and Kiira. He gave Liam a half-shrug, half-nod. “Yes. And we took down two vans near Parliament.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Oh, it was bloody alright,” Kiira whispered conspiratorially as she pushed open the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson stood to greet them. Liam and Kiira climbed into the booth after Kiira had been forced into a giant family-hug, and her mom had chastised her for not telling them… well, _everything_. Capheus stuck out his hand, stuttering out an incoherent _good to see you_. His heart was pounding too loud in his chest, and he was sure the whole room could hear it. Capheus was more nervous than he had been before he made that speech to the whole of Kibera, nervous that he was making a terrible impression on Kiira’s parents. On the parents she had grown up loving.

But then Kiira flashed him a smirk from where she sat. In their mind, she deftly reminded him to not mention their alleged revenge-murders to anyone besides Liam. And, as Capheus took a seat next to Kiira’s dad and informed him that, yes, BPO would no longer be a threat to their daughter, the pounding of his heart ceased to be so overwhelming.

*

As Kala slept on that afternoon, Wolfgang ventured into her dreams. She dreamed of being in her father’s restaurant, of bringing Wolfgang home — to Paris instead of Mumbai, but her family was still there, and they were walking around the Eiffel Tower, discussing what to do about Sebastian Fuchs.

It was the strangest of dreams. The discussion of Fuchs stopped abruptly when Kala, or maybe Wolfgang, or both of them, reminded themselves that Fuchs had died along with his empire. Fuchs had died by Lila’s hand, and they had a feeling Lila wouldn’t be keen to take over his business after what happened to her cluster.

Wait. What happened to Lila's cluster?

The thought of her cluster brought Kala’s mind into a memory from last night. Wolfgang saw Lila and the others through her eyes: fighting against Veronika and the guards one minute, lying in pools of blood the next. Kala’s dream had erased the part where she was electrocuted by the tasers, where she had blacked out for a second before she was dragged away, when the others had already fallen. Still, Wolfgang looked on, too tired to be angry, too curious to force his consciousness away.

As Kala’s dream shifted into a nonsensical one about Lito crying in a chemistry lab, Wolfgang chuckled, then willed himself to leave her in peace. He pulled himself up from the chair he’d sat in for too long and walked out. Three nurses passed by him as he made for the information desk. None of them asked questions.

The woman at the desk gave him a knowing look and pointed down the hall to her left before he could open his mouth to ask. “One of your friends is three doors down.”

Wolfgang nodded. He heard a voice in his head he couldn’t recognize, a woman’s voice like the one he just heard. The voice lingered for a second before it disappeared, too quickly for him to detect what it said. It was only when he stopped in front of the door to Sun’s room that he concluded the nurse must have been a sensate, too.

Detective Mun greeted him with a smile. 

“Everything okay?” Wolfgang asked, looking at Sun.

In their shared mind, Sun chuckled, amused that he was worried about _her_ safety of all people’s. But she didn’t open her eyes. 

“She’s stable.” Mun stood up. “I’m going to get coffee. Do you want some?”

Wolfgang knew he should try to be polite, to say something about how the detective didn’t have to leave, but all he could do was nod. He _could_ use some coffee. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

“Kala had woken up,” Sun observed after a quick glimpse into his mind. She cracked open one eye to look at him.

“She did.”

“I was worried we were too late.”

“You weren’t.” Wolfgang sat down. “You stopped Veronika.”

“So did you.” 

That last statement was met with silence. Sun knew he was bothered by something else. She searched for his memories again. 

“Did Kala see Lila die?” she asked finally, stumbling upon Kala’s dream.

Wolfgang shrugged. He didn’t think Kala had enough time to make sure Lila and the rest of her cluster were dead. From the way things had unfolded last night, he didn’t know what to make of it all — in the end, they had faced off against a common enemy instead of each other. He didn’t know if he would have finished Lila off, had they not been caught in Veronika’s ambush. 

The sound of Lila’s voice echoed in the depths of his mind, too faint for him to be sure it was there. But the sensation was eerily familiar: hair standing up on his arm like it did the first time they locked eyes, a slight, uneasy tremor coursing through his spine, tingling his nerves. Wolfgang suspected Veronika hadn’t intended to kill her.

“What about her cluster?” Sun asked.

Wolfgang frowned, concentrating on the sound of Lila’s voice. Behind it, whispering faintly, was another. A man’s voice speaking in Japanese. ’Maitake.

“One of them’s alive. Not the others,” he muttered.

“You are wondering if you made a mistake.”

“Maybe I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

Sun didn’t move her gaze away, and Wolfgang felt like he was being watched. Scrutinized. “From the way things appear, it would have been kinder to let Lila die.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Rarely was he unsure about who he wanted to kill. “Would it?”

“After Veronika did to her?” Kala’s memories flashed by again. Sun, no doubt, had wondered about the fates of their enemies-turned-unwilling-allies, too. “I don’t think she will have any more reason left to fight.”

Wolfgang wasn’t so sure. Lila didn’t seem like someone who could just give up. But then, she had hidden behind her cluster the last time they confronted each other. And now she couldn’t, even if she still wanted to.

Veronika didn’t break Lila. She destroyed her.

“Perhaps leaving Lila alive was both kind and cruel,” Sun continued when Wolfgang remained silent. “She can start over. But she has no choice _but_ to start over.”

“Sounds like something Veronika would want.”

The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed the memory of Veronika’s last moments away. Today, of all days, he didn’t want to dwell on the last link to his past. 

But why today?

Sun, to his surprise, chuckled. “Today is August 8th.”

“ _What?_ ”

A quick glance at the locked screen of his burner phone told Wolfgang she wasn’t lying.

“Today is the day we thought we would fight BPO,” Sun reminded him. “After the Archipelago gave us the word on the King’s Cross attack, Nomi and I realized there was more significance to this day than we originally believed.”

“What?” he repeated.

“Nomi and Amanita said they would get us cupcakes.”

“Okay.” The truth was starting to sink in. Their birthday. Fuck. It was their birthday.

When was the last time Wolfgang checked the fucking calendar?

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled. Their birthday. Fuck.

“Happy birthday.”

Wolfgang sighed and leaned back in his chair. This day was just full of surprises. A lot more than he was comfortable with. “So, now what?”

“I do believe Kala is looking forward to being with you in Paris.”

“Paris,” he mumbled, his mind uncharacteristically frazzled, “right. Paris. What about you?”

“Kwon-Ho is taking me back to Korea after I recover.”

“You agreed to go back?”

She nodded. “I trust he will not let me go back to prison.”

Rarely was Wolfgang so eager to trust someone, especially someone he hadn’t even met in person. But this day seemed to be full of exceptions. “He wouldn’t.”

“Sometimes I wonder if things would have been a lot simpler if I had killed Joong-Ki when I had the chance,” she confessed.

They relived her memory of that night again: wind whipping against her skin as she rode alongside her brother’s car. Turning his steering wheel with a metal rod. Towering over him as he tried to climb away, struggling as the pain from the crash threatened to overtake him. Wolfgang had felt her rage. If anything, his own reactions had intensified it. She had known where she must strike her brother if she wanted the damage to be fatal.

“There were witnesses,” Wolfgang pointed out, remembering the way other night market-goers had watched on with bated breaths, not daring to intervene.

“There were. But I was not thinking about the witnesses when I was deciding whether to strike. That was not why I stopped.”

“Then what?”

“Killing my brother would haunt my dreams. And I wanted to be done with the past.”

“Wouldn’t it haunt you knowing he’s still alive?”

Sun gave him a sad smile. “Our pasts may have had overlaps, Wolfgang, but the circumstances with which we parted with our family is different.”

“How is it different?”

“I think,” Sun said slowly, mulling over her words, “your father would have haunted you whether he was alive or dead. But at least when he’s dead, the haunting would only stay in your dreams. So it is preferable that he is no longer here.”

“And you think locking your brother up would be the end of it for you?”

“Unlike your family, Joong-Ki has done something that put him in jeopardy from the law. And he does not haunt me, now that he is in custody awaiting trial.”

It seemed reasonable. Wolfgang was usually one of the first to feel fear from his cluster, and he couldn’t detect any from Sun. Not anymore, at least. “But why?”

“I am not entirely sure,” she admitted. “But I suspect part of it is that Joong-Ki had always hired someone else to confront me.”

That, and Sun had been older. Wolfgang had been a child, constantly terrorized by a man who was stronger and untouched by the law. These facts were left unsaid, but part of being a sensate meant the other person understood the whole truth either way.

Instead, Wolfgang focused on the discussion at hand. “He was wise not to. If he had confronted you, he would be dead by now.”

From the way the slight smirk played at the corner of Sun’s lips, Wolfgang knew she approved of his speculation. “Possibly.”

“So you don’t regret not killing him?”

She shook her head. “Killing my brother would have haunted my dreams. And that is a worse punishment for me rather than him.”

“Even if it meant you could go back to prison?”

“Even if it meant going back to prison,” Sun said, echoing his thoughts. “To kill Joong-Ki would be to acknowledge that I had killed my brother. In letting him go, I had severed the ties that bound me to him. Now he is nothing to me.”

“Mun will make sure he goes to prison in your place,” Wolfgang assured her. “That’s how things should be.”

“It is.”

Like most of his conversation with Sun, a part of his reason was left unsaid: Sun deserved protection because she was innocent. 

“So were you,” she said, catching on to his latest thought.

Wolfgang shook his head. “I wasn’t innocent.”

“You were until you couldn’t be,” she insisted. “That was not your fault.”

Two months ago, Wolfgang would have scoffed. He was a killer, no matter how much the other person deserved it. But Kala had tried to convince him that he wasn’t doomed because of his past. The rest of his cluster, it seemed, had taken Kala’s side. There was no talking them out of it. Somewhat unfortunately, their faith in him was starting to get contagious. 

“Wasn’t it?” he asked, wondering if Sun would humor him.

She took him to the memory of last night, of the first battle she had run into at King’s Cross. “When the system fails, what choice would we have except to defend ourselves?”

*

María talked in her sleep. She always had, but usually, she was loud enough for Lito to hear what she was saying. Now, in her painkiller-induced stupor, the words were all jumbled up, losing all meaning as far as Lito could tell.

Not that it mattered. The fact that María was alive was all Lito needed to hear.

Her husband Andy and Hernando had sat by her bedside for most of the morning, keeping Lito company, speaking in hushed, worried whispers. When she had woken up in the mid-afternoon, the doctor had asked to see her and her husband alone. At around the same time, Dani had woken up from her nap at their hotel and come back to check on her boys. Against all protests, she had dragged both of them back by the hand to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Which was why Lito found himself back here with Andy in the evening, waiting for María to wake up again.

“What did the doctor say?” Lito asked.

Andy looked at his wife. “She said she wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Is it bad?”

“We could have lost her,” Andy muttered, looking down at his hands. Lito had observed that the hacker fidgeted when he was upset, averting everyone’s gaze. 

Lito sniffled. “I thought we did. I was so sure. There was an explosion.”

“Bug called the rescue authorities, yeah?”

“Apparently he did,” María muttered, eyes still closed.

“María!” Lito didn’t care that his voice broke. He was grinning as he scooted closer to her in his chair, the wheels squeaking against the ground.

She opened her eyes and turned to Andy. “I could use some coffee.”

Andy stood up and stroked her hair with a tender smile. Lito continued to look at her, his grin growing wider by the second. “I don’t think you’re allowed,” said both men.

“Okay, don’t do that, it’s freaky.”

Lito raised his hands in surrender. “You haven’t changed.”

She shrugged, not denying it, and addressed her husband, “Can I speak to Lito alone?”

With a promise that he would be back, Andy left the room to get coffee for himself.

“So,” Lito started, leaning closer, “how bad was it?”

Lito noticed she was biting the inside of her cheeks. An old habit, something she did whenever she was nervous. “I got hit in the spine. I can’t really feel my legs right now.”

“But are you -”

“I inhaled some of that dreadful explosion fume, too, I think,” she interrupted. “That was toxic, but I was face-down.”

“Thank God.”

María nodded. “Yeah. Hey, is my nose broken? It feels broken.”

He leaned in closer, aware that she was trying to stall. Whatever she needed to tell him, it couldn’t have been easy to say. “I don’t think it’s broken. Just bruised.”

“Oh. Good.”

“María, what did the doctor say?”

She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find a way to start. “Well, it’s not a complete paralysis -”

“Pa-paralysis?” He jerked up in his seat, and his eyes darted to where her legs were beneath the white sheets.

“I might be able to walk. Eventually.” She shrugged, trying to play it off.

“ _Might?!_ ”

“The doctor recommended physical therapy.” At Lito’s pained look, she added, “It’s better than I expected. But he said not to get _too_ optimistic.”

Her smile felt forced. Lito always knew when his friend was worried. He also knew not to call her out when she was in denial. So instead, he latched on to something else. “What do you mean, ‘better than I expected’?”

“You know the trouble with being a spy, Lito. You could get exposed. We all knew the risks,” she added hurriedly, seeing the way he paled. “I mean, if they’d found out I was a spy, I would’ve been shot at one of their little execution-meetings.”

“Fuck -”

“Right?” She snorted. “And here I thought _you_ were dramatic.”

If she hadn’t come close to actually dying, Lito would have laughed. “But last night -” he sighed and pinched his nose - “last night you could have died from something else.” _Because of me. Not them._

Lito felt her watching him, scrutinizing his expression. She pursed her lips. If she hadn’t been lying down, Lito was sure she would’ve put her hands on her hips. “Are you doing that thing where you’re blaming yourself again?”

“But this is my fault -”

“Ay, you are such a drama queen.” María rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, matching his mamá in the level of disapproval she could muster with one single _look_. 

It was the same look she’d given Lito of when they were teenagers, when he’d ramble on and on about his latest embarrassing run-in with a teacher, and she’d tell him he was making every school-related trouble sound like overkill, “like a telenovela with too many seasons”. 

“I should have held the door open -”

“Because you could've timed the explosion _so perfectly_. It’s not your fault, Lito! Seriously, who puts a failsafe trigger on a water tower?”

“But -”

“Lito Matías Alejandro Rodríguez -” she cut in, jabbing a finger at his shoulder with her free hand - “you are not the catalyst for every problem in the universe.”

“I gave you the grenade -”

“Which I asked for. Which I tossed. Which killed basically everyone else on that rooftop except for me.” She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Agent Lito, let me have my moment.”

“But it almost killed you,” Lito mumbled. He was wearing a wounded expression, one he used to put on whenever the teasing started, but for once, it was completely genuine.

María looked like she was going to retort with something else, but she swallowed it back. “Guess this is the lesser evil, then,” she said softly, forcing another smile. “Hey. I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll still be faster than you in a wheelchair.”

“You might recover,” Lito said feebly, trying to cheer her up. It was a little embarrassing that she was doing most of the uplifting when he was the one who came out unharmed. “The doctor said you might. You told me he did.”

“Maybe.” María paused before she said this like she wasn’t sure if she’d be lying. It was so rare to see his friend say anything without full confidence, and it worried him.

“You will,” he told her, hoping to sound as assured as he pretended to be.

“Mm.” She decided to drop the topic. “Well, I get to go home, so that’s always good. Andy’s looking for a doctor in LA who can help.”

“Los Angeles?” He sat up. “Is that where you live?”

“Unbelievable.” She pretended to slap herself in a self-deprecating way. “We’ve been talking for days, and I haven’t told you where we lived?”

Lito laughed. “I’m going to be in Hollywood. I can still see you.”

“Oh yeah.” Her smile brightened, genuine this time. “You told me. For Kit Wrangler, right?”

He nodded. “Iberian Dreams.”

“My little penguin’s all grown up,” she cooed, imitating the way his mamá used to talk every time he did a grown-up thing. It was his turn to roll his eyes. “When do you start shooting?

“September.”

“We’re going back in September. Andy promised me a late honeymoon before we leave.”

“Where? Paris?”

“London, actually. Or up north, somewhere with farms and villages and no people. I am so sick of being inside a skyscraper all day.”

“An unconventional honeymoon,” he remarked. “It suits you.”

María raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh, what do you know about me now? We haven’t seen each other in ten years.”

“ _Dios mío._ ” Lito gasped like she had just done the math. “That _is_ a long time. I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”

“You sound like a stalker,” she pointed out. “But fine. You can check out where we live and all that. Which reminds me -” before Lito could say something clever in retort, María’s eyes brightened, and she looked over his shoulder - “Andy!”

Lito turned and saw Andy standing there through the small window, two cups of coffee in hand. Perfect timing — he had run out of clever things to say, and he did not fancy losing to María in a friendly bickering war. He got up to open the door for Andy, who came in and offered Lito the second cup.

“Which reminds me,” María started again, “Lito, you still owe us dinner.”

“So you do!” Andy looked at Lito, his smug expression a perfect parallel to his wife’s.

“Do I?” Lito asked, feigning ignorance.

María stuck out her tongue. “Hernando will hold you to it if you don’t.”

*

Other _sapiens_ in BPO would think twice about resurfacing with Veronika dead.

That evening, Nomi repeated this to herself three times as she balanced the giant box full of cupcakes in precariously on her arm, careful not to tilt the box in case the frostings smeared into one another and mixed up all the flavors. Amanita was holding her other hand as they rode up the elevator to Kala’s room, swinging it back and forth. The moment she and Neets left the old London safe house to check on the others at the hospital, it dawned on her that after spending so much time in hiding, preparing for the other shoe to drop, it felt surreal that the battle had been over and done with.

They couldn’t quite believe this really was the end of it.

Bug, on the other hand, was taking the victory in stride. “Justice is served, motherfuckers,” he’d muttered as he and several other hackers sent forth the documents that would put the other _sapiens_ in their rightful place: just the right amount of truth to incriminate them without exposing the existence of sensate-kind. 

Early this morning, the hackers had traveled down to London to meet “the heroes of the hour” at the hospital despite Nomi’s insistence that they couldn’t take all the credit. Her cluster and allies’ involvement in what the police had dubbed as the “BPO massacre” had been conveniently erased, all footages showing their faces gone. The hackers had made it seem like the whole surveillance system had been malfunctioning the night before, which wasn’t entirely a lie. The tug-o-war between the Veracity and BPO hackers would have worn down the cameras eventually, anyway. 

In mid-afternoon, after all the file-sending and crime-erasing work was done, Bug had been marched to a nearby pub by his new like-minded friends to celebrate. Four o’clock was way earlier than was socially acceptable to be drinking till they dropped, but who cared? The huge, teary smile he had given Nomi on his way out made her heart melt.

“It’s your birthday, Noms,” Amanita whispered as the elevator came to a stop. “Wow.”

“It’s my birthday,” she repeated as they walked down the hall to Kala’s room, just to remind herself this was actually, truly happening.

The others were all there when Amanita opened the door, every member of her cluster sporting a ridiculous cone-shaped birthday hat. Wolfgang sulked underneath his absurd get-up as Felix marched over to put another plastic necklace on him, to Dani’s amusement. But his scowl turned into a smile when Kala took his hand from her bed and thought to him, in their shared mind, that he looked very handsome in magenta glitter.

Nomi had a feeling it was Lito who insisted on the dress code. 

“Happy birthday, _hermana_!” 

Lito sauntered over and took the cupcakes from her, freeing her aching arm. She sat down on the chair they’d saved for her. Amanita laid the packet of candles on top — twenty-nine candles for twenty-nine cupcakes — before joining her fiancée.

Kala’s hospital room seemed crowded with all of the cluster and extended family gathered here, cramped up in a small space. But this was one of the only times Nomi welcomed the near-claustrophobic feeling. The fact that they were all gathered to celebrate their birthday made her want to huddle closer, to make sure they were all _there_.

Felix waved his free arm like a conductor and bellowed out the first line of the Happy Birthday song in German, horribly and unapologetically off-key. Capheus chimed in with lyrics in Swahili, tapping the rhythm with his foot. Then Lito and Dani joined in with the Spanish version and bullied Hernando into doing the same, and soon everyone was adding in lyrics they grew up singing. Even Wolfgang sang the Hindi version in place of Kala, whose lungs still ached when she tried to talk. 

The song extended to eight verses and carried on for what seemed like forever until their voices had gone hoarse and a nurse had knocked on their door to tell them to please keep it down before wishing them all a happy birthday.

They were silent when they passed around the cupcakes and put the candle on top, fishing for their favorite flavors among the vast collection Nomi and Amanita had managed to acquire. A few extras were left on the table for later, and Dani had arranged them in a heart formation and put the remaining candles in. 

Sun tried to reach into her bra to take out her lighter by habit, fumbling around fruitlessly in her hospital gown. Detective Mun, who had pushed her over to this room in a wheelchair, was trying not to laugh. Even in her injured state, Nomi had no doubt Sun could beat him up if she felt like it.

Riley found her lighter and handed it to Will, who lit the first candle. He tapped his cupcake against Riley’s to light hers as their candles met, whispering _cheers_. Nomi knew his smile was forced, and Henrik’s death loomed over his head even as he expressed his silent gratitude that all of his cluster had come out alive. Will had taken their ally’s death the hardest. He had always considered it his responsibility to make sure everyone was safe, never mind how much danger he was in himself.

Maybe it was a cop thing, Nomi concluded. But the room was eerily quiet as all the candles burned. No one spoke for a minute. In the silence, everyone met each other’s eyes across the room, mirroring his grief. They shared Will’s guilt, sensates and _sapiens_ alike.

“Let’s make a wish,” Riley said, squeezing Will’s shoulder as she broke the silence.

The eight of them closed their eyes, mindful of the rest of their family watching. Nomi’s finger stroked against the wrapping paper around the cupcake as she tried to think of something to ask. Last year, all they had asked for was their safety. Without it, nothing else would have mattered. But now that the last wish had been granted, Nomi found herself at a loss for words.

All in all, it wasn’t a perfect birthday celebration. It was the messy aftermath of a war, of a final battle where too many things went wrong and a few, crucial things went right. But it was theirs, and it was the first time they celebrated a shared victory as well as the highlights of their personal lives. 

Nomi opened her eyes at the same moment the rest of her cluster did. None of them had decided what to say. But the moment they reminded themselves, again, that they were all here, safe and recovering, they knew what they longed for more than anything else. The eight of them shared a bittersweet sort of smile before they made the wish together in their shared mind. 

They wished this would be the last time they had to live in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** I'm serious. The shop that sells Riley's engagement ring does have a wedding band that complements it. [Here](https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/398187745/vintage-leaf-band-diamond-leaf-wedding?ref=hp_rv) it is :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Dear Veracity fans,
> 
> We may be close to the end of my story, but the story of the August 8 Cluster doesn't end here. If you can, please contact Netflix in whatever ways you can and tell them why this show's important to you. We deserve SO MUCH more than just a special. I have faith we can fight for more :)
> 
> \- Love, Sas (Nightjar_Patronus)


	38. What is human?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which several people get closure and begin to move on.
> 
> “What is human? An ability to reason? To imagine? To love or grieve? If so, we are more human than any human ever will be.”  
> — From S1E10, “What is human?”

**August, 2017**

The Cluster and their extended family spent two weeks in London after the battle wandering around the city in a blissful daze. For the sensates, this reprieve meant running into more of their kind whenever they went, forming more connections than they thought was possible. For the _sapiens_ , it was a time to observe.

Dani and Felix spent most of those days talking. It was nice for Dani to get to know Felix without this whole impending-doom threat looming over their heads, but their conversations weren't all that different from before: friendly bickers over breakfast turned to ridiculous cooking challenges at noon (Felix always won, and Dani was impressed with how many surprisingly edible things he could whip up with limited supplies); small talk in the afternoon turned into drunken philosophical discussions at night (Dani always won, though Felix could now stay sober 'till midnight, which was something)…

By the end of the month, Felix was like a lifestyle Dani had grown accustomed to. There was no other way to describe it. So Felix had insisted on seeing her off to the airport in late August after she'd said goodbye to everyone else, and she saw no reason to object.

The smirk Wolfgang had given Felix when they got into the minivan could only be categorized as "unashamedly amused", like the two best friends were sharing some kind of insider-joke about Dani. But Wolfgang had enough sense to not comment and assumed the driver's role in silence. Lito and Hernando had less luck staying quiet, but Dani gave them a look, and they turned to the window and spent the whole ride admiring trees.

The drive to Heathrow Airport was, needless to say, too short.

Felix had insisted on pushing Dani's luggage cart, too, even if his injured arm and shoulder were still bound in a sling. After two failed attempts to get the cart to move straight, Dani suggested they do it together. He spent the whole walk staring at her instead of ahead. She knew this because she stared back.

Dani could see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as they walked to the security checkpoint. Not his usual "I told you I'm an awesome fighter" smile, but a tentative one, the one he'd worn when they'd watched _Conan the Destroyer_ in Manchester — when he'd spent half the movie staring at her instead of Conan.

Thinking about his smile made Dani look at his lips, and looking at his lips made her wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. Surely, he'd blush. Maybe he'd freeze, too. Mostly, though, she imagined he'd break into that stupid, dopey grin.

Fuck. The thought of Felix's grin made Dani _really_ want to kiss him.

When they reached the security checkpoint and Felix and Wolfgang had to say goodbye, it finally hit Dani that she wouldn't see Felix for a while. They'd all been invited to Nomi and Amanita's wedding, but no date had been decided as of yet — and she didn't want to leave him with only a goodbye. After everything, a goodbye didn't seem like enough.

"So," Felix started, "I guess this is goodbye."

A goodbye was _definitely_ not enough.

"You better call me after I land," she said, walking closer, close enough for her to feel his body heat. She didn't get how he could stay so warm when all he was wearing was a flimsy (and very orange) Hawaiian shirt.

"Yes, ma'am."

She put her hand on his good shoulder and closed the distance between them, standing on tip-toes so she could look into his eyes. It was one of the only times she wasn't wearing heels, and she wished they were the same height. He was looking at her with a puzzled expression, nearly crossing his eyes as their faces were so close.

Before Dani could think of a reason to draw away, she leaned in, closed her eyes, and gave Felix a close-mouthed kiss, a quick peck on the lips. His lips were softer than she imagined. It made her a little giddy. Why didn't she try it sooner?

And then she let go. She grabbed her luggage cart and pushed it over to the security checkpoint, Lito and Hernando following behind. Lito was looking at Felix, then Dani, then back at Felix, his expression a bizarre hybrid of scandalized and pleased. Hernando blinked thrice and nudged up his mended glasses like he was seeing Dani with new eyes.

Dani felt the overwhelming urge to skip all the way to the gate, but she restrained herself. Instead, she turned, waved and gave Felix a wink. He waved back and — there it was. That grin. The grin she would remember him by until they met again.

"Wolfie," she heard Felix say in a hoarse voice after she turned back to load her luggage onto the conveyer belt, "I need new shoes."

During the flight, Dani scrolled through the photos on her phone, if only to remind herself that this was all real. She smiled when she stumbled upon a selfie from the day she and Felix went to that fancy bar in Soho for Salsa Night. Felix was wearing that same dopey grin, posing in a borrowed suit that was too big for him, and she was smiling, too — half-exasperated at his antics, half-amused.

She set the selfie as her lock-screen background.

Felix did call her the moment she landed, as promised. They talked during the whole ride home. They talked while Hernando whipped out his favorite kitchen utensils and made them all a welcome-home dinner, after which Lito and Hernando curled up on the couch to watch _Legally Blonde_. They were still talking when her boys decided to call it a night and called Dani over to bed, patting the space between them.

She finally hung up when, an hour later, Hernando pulled off his glasses and burrowed himself into the giant comforter, grumbling about Felix stealing her away.

A week after that was Dani's birthday, three days before she and her boys would be heading to LA. She woke up on August 31st to find dozens of messages waiting for her: happy birthday videos from every member of Lito's Cluster and their extended family, a package from María and Andy… and text messages from just about every ally, sensate or _sapien_ , that she'd come across.

Amanita gave her a video call after breakfast that day.

"Happy birthday, Dani!" she said. Then, cutting straight to the chase, "Did you get that video message from Felix?"

Talk about priorities. Dani chuckled. "I did."

It was the first message she had opened when she woke up. The moment she hit "play", the sound of Felix singing _Porque Yo Te Amo_ blasted through the speaker on her phone. From the looks of the video, Felix had situated himself in a bathroom for the sake of quality acoustics. Unfortunately, it did nothing to hide the fact that he had utterly butchered the tune _and_ the lyrics. Hernando, who was on the verge of waking up anyway, buried his face in his pillow and shook uncontrollably with laughter. Poor Lito, on the other hand, was so spooked by the sheer volume of the song that he rolled over and promptly fell out of bed.

"Wolfgang told Noms to tell Lito to warn you," Amanita explained. "But Noms said Lito's still asleep. So, here ya go."

"It's a little too late for a warning, but thanks."

"Oh, well." Amanita flashed Dani a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling. "So. How's Felix?"

"How would I know?"

That was a lie. Dani and Felix talked every day, and Felix had made it his duty to update Dani on every little aspect of his life. Judging by Amanita's quirked eyebrow, Dani guessed she knew it, too.

"He's in Paris this week to visit Wolfgang and Kala," Dani caved. "He's been whining about being a third wheel."

And he'd been whining about sandwiches made from baguettes. ( _Okay, we're in France, I get it. This is fucking overkill._ ) And berets. ( _They're hats for people who don't know what a hat is, Dani. They're a disgrace to hats._ ) And escargots. ( _How the fuck did some rich dude back in history see a fucking snail and think, 'Hell, yeah, I'd eat that'?_ )

"Mm. Sounds like a problem you can fix," Amanita said.

"I'm not going to _Paris_ , Neets."

Amanita groaned. "You are unbelievable, honey. I meant invite him over! Show him the movie studio or something. He'd love that."

"He would," Dani admitted. "I did ask when we were on the train to Manchester. He said he might. But I don't know. Maybe I'll wait 'till your wedding."

"You sure you can wait that long?"

Dani wasn't sure she could. One week, and she was already wishing Felix was still around, sauntering around the kitchen all smug-like with a pounder of beer. But she put on a poker face. She wasn't gonna prove Amanita right. Not _yet_ , anyway. "Depends. When's the wedding, do you know?"

"We're thinking somewhere around New Year's Eve. It's not gonna be a huge wedding, so I don't think the planning's gonna take forever."

"Four months. I'll manage," Dani lied. "But thanks, for the birthday call and… everything."

"You are unbelievable," Amanita repeated, tutting her tongue. "Fine. He'll be in California then. But you gotta ask him to stay after."

"Alright." Dani smiled. "I miss you."

Amanita blew her a kiss. "Miss you too, babe. Promise you'll ask Felix to stay?"

"Do I have to?"

Dani was asking for the sake of it now, really. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to let him just _leave_ a second time. No way.

"Don't make me ask again," Amanita said, putting on her stern voice.

"Fine," Dani relented. "Promise."

* * *

  **September, 2017**

The last thing Will expected to receive in the mail was a switchblade.

It was the same switchblade he had confiscated from Mavis when they first met. Seeing it again made him chuckle, remembering how different things were the last time he held the blade. As well as first meetings went, their confrontation could have been a lot less hostile. But neither blamed the other. They understood the reason behind their mutual suspicion.

 _Dear Will,_ she'd written in the letter accompanying the blade in the envelope (her handwriting was surprisingly neat — he'd pictured her as someone who scrawled out words in a hasty cursive).

_I've decided that I don't trust myself to hold on to my old weapons. I keep telling myself that I carry it everywhere in case I need it for self-defense, but I think I'm making a terrible habit of it. A few days ago, a guy bumped into me at The Luz Station, and my reflex told me to stab him._

It still took Will a few seconds to remind himself that Mavis was in São Paulo, even though she had visited him a week back to catch up. Mavis was volunteering with Gabriel at the Overpass Shelter in the city, a chain of homeless shelters created by the Archipelago to help sensates get back on their feet after the war. A few nights a week, she took classes to figure out what she wanted to pursue academically. ( _Kiira's been asking if I wanted to go into neuroscience,_ she'd said. _So I listened in on a lecture. It was harder than spying._ )

His eyes skimmed the next paragraph of Mavis' letter, and he laughed. Riley, who was sitting across from him eating her breakfast, raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He knew she expected him to hand her the letter after, anyway.

_For all we know — and yes, I know part of this is coming from excessive spy-paranoia — the guy may have been an actual Headhunter. But I don't think that explanation could have sat well with the police if I really did act on my suspicions._

_What I mean to say is, my spy days are behind me (thank God!), so I feel this is the appropriate way to move on. You're a cop. You might actually need it sometimes, but what you do with this is up to you. Use it well, since you seem to always have a target on your back. Unfortunately._

_P.S. Yes, I'm aware that we're sensates, and I could have visited and informed you about this parting gift ahead of times, but where's the fun in that?_

"She's not wrong," Riley said, looking up from the letter after she read it. "You put yourself in a lot more danger than most."

Instinctively, he looked at the cast on his leg. It wasn't going to come off for another month, and every time he used his crutches, it was a reminder that things could have gone a lot worse. "Alright. Guess I'll keep the blade."

Will knew Riley would be a lot less worried if he weren't going to return to his old job. But she'd never ask and put him on the spot. She knew he loved being a cop. Besides, safety hadn't been part of their life since the beginning. Maybe they were making a habit out of this occasional adrenaline rush.

Riley shrugged, having heard his thought. "I can't believe they let you back on the force so soon. Those hackers are good."

In San Francisco, Nomi humphed, wondering why they ever doubted hacking could get the job done.

All it took was a few classified-looking documents and a hospital record — as far as the others cops knew, Will was sent on an undercover mission to uncover corruption in BPO, only to find much more sinister secrets in the process. He'd gotten injured trying to bring innocent employees to safety during the final confrontation, apparently "an internal struggle gone out of control".

Will had told Diego the cover story. The other guys at the station were mad that Diego had gotten Will to spill the beans but kept the secret from the rest of them, but Diego was smug that he was the only one who knew the truth. He was, however, super mad that Will had gotten married in Iceland without inviting him, and would be staying with Gunnar until Christmas — he didn't have to return to work until the start of next year.

( _The fuck you need a four months honeymoon for, Gorski?_ Diego had asked over the phone.)

Riley and Will had said their vows in front of the volcano with the name he still couldn't pronounce. Per Riley's wish, her dad had become an ordained minister online so he could officiate the ceremony. Unlike her last wedding, there were no flower bouquets or white gowns or church bells, only promises made and rings exchanged. The Cluster had visited and stayed, offering their congratulations after.

A grin stretched across his face. He reached his good leg forward under the table and bumped his foot against Riley's, making her smile in return. "I can't believe we're getting our lives back. You sure you wanna move back to Chicago with me?"

"I've DJ'd in most of Europe." She swirled her spoon around her black-with-one-sugar coffee. "I think it's time to branch out."

"Mm. The one and only Riley Blue, traveling across the pond." He took a swig of identical coffee from his own mug. "Chicago's been missing out. Maybe you'll see a couple more sensates at your next rave," he added, remembering the last time she performed.

She nodded and spread some whipped cream over her pancakes, lost in thought. Will waited for her to start. "It's so weird, coming out of hiding," she said.

"I keep expecting to be recognized," Will agreed.

"I mean, we were."

Two mornings ago, Will had gone grocery shopping with Riley. It was nice to go out and get some fresh air, even though his crutches made it nearly impossible for him to carry anything. The shopping itself was uneventful, but their cashier had looked at them, eyes wide with recognition. Their first instinct was to run as far away as possible. And, if the cashier didn't mutter _thank you_ , if they didn't hear an Echo from an unfamiliar mind and figure out they were meeting another sensate, they very much would have.

But even as they made their way back, chuckling about the latest encounter, a voice in the back of Will's mind had asked, _What if she turns out to be another Jonas?_

It was his dad's voice. His dad had never been the trusting type, and hearing it now, after spending so long trying to forget it, made a shiver creep up Will's spine.

Riley's hand found his from across the table. He was aware of the two rings on her finger, the metal pleasantly warm against his skin. It relaxed him. "Even if she is, there's no more BPO to betray us to," Riley pointed out.

"Yeah, you're – you're right," he replied absentmindedly.

They were quiet for a minute. Will could hear the thoughts swirling around Riley's mind, fragments of words spoken over and around each other in her voice. She was piecing together a plan. Finally, she said, drawing her hand away, "Talk to him."

"Who? Jonas? Why?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you scared to confront him?"

"How can we even know if it's real? He's – he's a –"

Jonas appeared by his side. "Yes, Will, I'm a memory."

"Holy shit!" Will nearly fell off his chair, but stopped himself in time. Jonas — the memory of Jonas — sat down without making a comment.

Riley looked at Jonas, then decided this was a conversation best left to Will and Jonas alone. She excused herself and went to visit Nomi.

"My presence in your mind is a projection of all that you know about me, and all that you've ever thought about me or suspected of me," Jonas continued, unfazed by Will's apparent shock. "Another part of your memories of me comes from Angelica. A sensate birth transfers memories. But you don't know all of my memories, except for the ones I've shared with Angelica, and the ones she experienced with me."

"So why did you want to keep Whispers alive so badly?" Will blurted out. He wondered if Jonas, his version of Jonas, would even know the answer.

"I'm not sure I can answer that fully, based on what you know." That confirmed it. "But everything I did since Angelica died was because of her."

"Is that why you protected us? Because she would have wanted it that way?"

"Yes, and no."

Will didn't think Jonas could get any more confusing. But trying to understand Jonas wasn't any easier, even now that he was dead. "You – what?"

"I know I'm not the most reliable person. You were right not to trust me. But no matter what you think about me, Will, I'm not a Headhunter. I wasn't simply going to let you die." _I'm not a murderer,_ Jonas added as an afterthought.

"People have _died_ because of you, Jonas. Angelica died because of you."

At the sound of her name, Jonas flinched. But his expression stiffened back to a mask of calm before Will could catch him at it. "I may have been the catalyst to Angelica's death, but I was not the one to pull the trigger. It was her choice."

"You manipulated her!"

"I admit, I do not care about the effects of my actions on others as much as you would want me to, Will. I'm no savior." Will's mind's version of Jonas, at least, had the decency to speak the truth.

"I'm not a savior –"

"Aren't you, Will? You see it as your duty to fix things you didn't break. You take responsibility for things greater than your own life. All of your Cluster do."

"And you don't." After spending so much time with people who believed in the same things he did, Will found that difficult to comprehend.

Jonas nodded, a knowing nod. "I don't. But I admire people who do."

The realization came out before Will knew he had the answer. "People like Angelica?"

"Angelica had made selfish decisions. Everyone does or will do at some point in their lives. But at the end of the day, she chose to be selfless."

And that choice, Will realized, was the difference between them. Jonas would never have done the same. Even in the end, he tried to keep Whispers alive.

"Perhaps it's just as well that I died," Jonas said before he disappeared from view. "If I had lived, if I had kept Whispers alive, this war would not have ended."

With that last thought, Jonas' presence in Will's mind fading back into the depths of his memory, not to be called up again until next year's anniversary of his death.

Will may never have come to understand Jonas, no matter if he had lived or died. In a better world where Whispers had never existed, perhaps he could have. Maybe Jonas would never have found it in himself to convince Angelica to end her own life had things gone differently. And then, maybe Will and his Cluster would have come to see Angelica as who she was, to get to know her, instead of Jonas' version of her.

But Will didn't live in that world. Still, that didn't mean Will had quite gotten over Jonas dying. He couldn't get over Whispers dying, either, though the two deaths shadowed him in different ways. Whispers' death left him haunted; Jonas' death left him wondering what could have been.

 _Pelzer's death haunts me, too,_ Mavis thought.

Will caught a glimpse of Ibirapuera Park through her eyes. Night had already fallen in São Paulo, and she was strolling by with Gabriel, in no rush to get home. Very uncharacteristic of her, but then again, Will had only known her in the context of war.

 _It's the cop,_ Gabriel observed, stopping them in their track.

 _Yup. It's the cop,_ Mavis confirmed. _And he's all morbid here, thinking about death._

Gabriel chuckled, but otherwise remained silent, waiting patiently as they moved to a bench and sat down. Will suspected Mavis would relay all of their conversations to him later, anyway.

"So. Milton's dead. We know that much." Mavis appeared by Will's side and sat down where Jonas was moments ago. She waved hello to Riley, who was sitting still, having joined Nomi and Amanita in watching a movie before their bedtime. "That should be a relief."

"Pelzer's death still haunts you," he pointed out. Then, nodding at the letter lying on the table, "Is that why you sent this?"

She laughed. "It's the first step in my five-year-plan in letting go after I murdered my enemy. And yes, he still haunts me. It helps that he's not a physical threat anymore, though."

That, Will could agree with wholeheartedly.

"But killing was self-defense for both of us, wasn't it?" Mavis asked. "It gets rid of a major problem, but it's not a solution. Morgan's still dead."

And Henrik. And Damien's mom. And countless others. "They shouldn't have died."

Mavis sighed. "You're right. They shouldn't. No one should have died."

"I should have -"

"If anyone, it should have been _me_ ," she insisted, cutting him off before he could spiral again. "I mean, when I volunteered, I hoped I wasn't gonna die — of course I didn't wanna die — but I half-expected to, well, die. "

"But you didn't." _We didn't._

"Yeah. Lucky my allies happened to be a pack of survivors."

"Not all our allies."

"Not all," she agreed. "But we made sure those were the last deaths."

Will thought back to that night again, that moment he and Riley pulled the trigger on Whispers together. Something had lifted in his chest then, a feeling he couldn't quite describe. It wasn't happiness; killing never had, and never would bring him any twisted joy, no matter how much he thought the person deserved it.

But he also felt better, now that he no longer thought of Whispers every time he closed his eyes. He no longer worried he or any other sensates out there, could be killed in their sleep.

Mavis, he knew, thought the same. "There's one good thing that came out of them being dead." She eyed her blade on the table with a nostalgic look.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I can keep going. And I can start over."

"You can."

"And hey -" she looked up, meeting his eyes - "you, too."

*

Sun had never fallen asleep in a car because she had always traveled alone. Sleeping in the car would have rendered her unprotected, and if there was one thing she hated being, it was defenseless. It was not a risk she was willing to take.

But when Sun and Kwon-Ho finally got out of the airport, she couldn't stay awake any longer. Sometime during the car ride back, she had dozed off into a dreamless sleep in the passenger seat, pressing her head against the pleasantly cold glass window. She woke up to the feeling of Kwon-Ho shaking her gently by the shoulder, smirking as she blinked twice and registered where they had stopped.

He had parked their car by the front door to her teacher's house.

Suddenly awake, she all but ripped the seatbelt off her and ran out of the car, knocking the front door open. Her dog, Jinju, barked as she ran out from the living room. Her teacher followed the enthusiastic puppy out, chuckling who chuckled as he took in the sight of Sun and the detective.

"You had a nice trip?" Teacher asked.

"Very," Sun said, sitting cross-legged on the ground as she cuddled her dog.

Her teacher looked at Kwon-Ho. "I am assuming he is here to help you clear your name."

"I am," Kwon-Ho promised. He crouched down to pat Jinju on the back, scratching the back of her neck. She turned to lick his hand, and Kwon-Ho chuckled.

"She likes you," Sun observed. It pleased her that Kwon-Ho was able to get Jinju to warm up to him so quickly. No matter how much she had come to tolerate the detective's presence, if Jinju didn't like him, it would have been a deal-breaker.

"I'm honored." Kwon-Ho stood up. Jinju was running circles around him now, sniffing at his shoes, barking in content.

 _Dogs are good judges of character, you know,_ Nomi thought. Sun tutted her tongue and shook her head, before lowering herself to cuddle with her dog some more.

"We will come back to get her after we sort things out," Kwon-Ho told her teacher.

It only occurred to Sun the next morning that Kwon-Ho had said "we" instead of "she".

Per Kwon-Ho suggestion, Sun had spent the night at a love motel and walked to his station at five in the morning to turn herself in. Kwon-Ho had insisted on questioning her himself. His Lieutenant had, thankfully, granted him permission, since it had been his case.

Compared to the other battle Sun had recently fought, the trial that put her brother in prison once and for all seemed almost anticlimactic.

"Do you want to talk to him alone?" Kwon-Ho asked as he escorted her to the meeting room at the men's prison two weeks later.

She shook her head. "Come with me."

Joong-Ki was all teary eyes and shameless groveling as soon as she and Kwon-Ho stepped inside, the same mask he had worn when she had confronted him about the embezzlement in her father's office. Nothing had changed except for the fact that she no longer had a promise to fulfill. She had done her part, and she was offered a fresh start when her father decided to tell the truth. Joong-Ki had taken that chance away from her, too.

This was no longer a family matter, but a personal one.

"Please, Sun," Joong-Ki pleaded, his head so low, his nose could be touching the surface of the table. He couldn't look her in the eye. It didn't take a detective to figure out why. "Please. Bail me out."

Sun thought she would be angry. She had asked Kwon-Ho to be here to make sure she didn't lose her temper and attack him. She had vowed that their last confrontation on the street would be the last time they hurt each other.

But she wasn't angry. She hadn't been since the judge had made his final verdict, and she had been freed. Now she felt nothing. "I am afraid that's not how it works. And the punishment for contract killing is much worse."

"Please," he said between sobs, "I'm your family."

 _Family._ Family was the reason she had taken the fall for Joong-Ki last time. But family was certainly not the reason he had attempted, time and again, to silence her.

 _Pathetic._ Wolfgang scoffed.

Kwon-Ho tightened his hold on her shoulder. He had been hovering protectively behind her since they had come in, and for once, she didn't mind the protection. Her Cluster appeared behind Joong-Ki, watching the pathetic prisoner beg for his freedom. They rolled their eyes simultaneously. In a less intense situation, Sun would have laughed.

Sun looked up at the same time Joong-Ki did, but her eyes didn't linger on him. They saw through him, taking in the faces of the seven people who had risked their lives to protect her. To protect each other.

"Not anymore," Sun said before she walked out without looking back.

The drive back to her apartment was a silent one. Sun had moved back a week ago, and Kwon-Ho had volunteered to help, even though she didn't ask. Not that she saw a need to refuse — the sooner she got her life back to normal, the better.

"Is this goodbye, then?" Kwon-Ho asked when they reached her door.

 _Don't let him go,_ Lito thought. Sun rolled her eyes at the drama of it all.

Kwon-Ho raised an eyebrow. "Is that Lito?"

She laughed. Lito certainly had a way of making an impression.

 _Ask him out,_ Nomi suggested, at the same time Riley thought, _Invite him in_.

"Not just Lito," Sun said, pushing her key in. "All of them."

Jinju had run to the door before she opened it, barking excitedly. The moment the door opened to reveal Kwon-Ho, she jumped, putting two little paws against his legs. He lowered himself and scratched her behind her neck again. Her favorite spot.

"I can't stay long," Kwon-Ho told her, still standing in the hall. "My shift starts in half an hour. So." He twiddled his thumb. "I guess…"

"Meet me at the park tomorrow," Sun blurted out. "Yeouido Park. By your station."

In a movie studio in Los Angeles, Lito Rodríguez jumped up and shouted _Yes!_ in Blake Huntington's face, never mind that he was in the middle of filming a romantic confession.

The grin that broke out on Kwon-Ho's face was unmistakably pleased and smug, all in one. "Is it wise for us to have a rematch so soon? You're still recovering."

"Not a rematch." She crossed her arms. "Just to talk."

She wanted to add that if it were a rematch, she would still beat him. But she held her tongue. That was a discussion they could save for tomorrow. In case he challenged the idea, she'd give him a chance to prove himself then.

"Okay." His grin grew wider. "I'd like that."

"Meet me at King Sejong's statue. Seven o'clock."

"That works." He checked his watch. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded.

Kwon-Ho gave her one last wave goodbye before he walked down the hall. She watched him go, peeking her head out the door. Jinju nuzzled her on the ankle, trying to get her attention. When he was standing at the elevator, she called out again, "Kwon-Ho?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

*

Nomi felt Amanita's nightmares in the same way she felt her Cluster's fears. She, herself, was in-between dreams, dancing with Teagan one minute, riding flying elephants the next. But Neets' whimpers worked their ways into Nomi's dreams until Nomi realized it wasn't part of the dream, but something happening real time.

She woke moments before Amanita did. Nomi watched as Neets' eyes shot open, the dark brown of her irises glinting under the dim light from the window. Neets huddled closer for comfort. Nomi wrapped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her up, so they were leaning against the headboard. They sat without speaking for a while, in complete silence, save for the occasional engine sputtering from car roaming around the street after midnight.

Nomi's Cluster wasn't the only one affected by the nightmarish war against BPO back in August, one that left them reeling in the aftermath even a month after it had ended. Their extended family had shared some of the memories. The fact that Amanita had shot Kolovi had come back to haunt her after they left London. Sometimes Kolovi would come back alive in her dreams.

"Neets," she prompted gently. "What happened this time?"

"I shot him. I shot him, and he fell, and he was _dead_ , Noms, he was clearly dead - he was bleeding. He was bleeding from his mouth, and there was blood on the back of his head and blood on the wall behind him but -" she broke into tears.

"I'm sorry, Neets." Nomi pulled her into a hug. "You don't have to keep going if -"

Amanita shook her head. "No, it's - he came back alive this time." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I shot him. He fell. He was dead. And then his eyes opened, and he stood up, and he grabbed me -" she motioned in front of her neck with her hands - "and he said - I don't remember what he said, I woke up, but he came back to life, Noms. _Again_."

"I'm sorry." Nomi kissed her on the forehead, and Amanita buried herself face-down on her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go confront him. God, I'm sorry I dragged you into this -"

"Noms, no." Amanita's voice was muffled by Nomi's nightgown. "That's the thing: I'm not sorry. I wanted him to die, he - I pulled the trigger after he told me they trapped you in an elevator. And I was furious, and he was right there, and I thought, 'he has to die'. So I don't -" she sniffled - "I don't know why I keep seeing him. In my head, in my dreams -"

"He's gone," Nomi reassured, pulling the blanket over both of them. She eased them back against the headboard where their pillows were propped. "You saw him die, Neets. Hell, you made sure he's dead. He's not gonna come back."

"I wish he'd stop bothering me," said Amanita.

"Me, too." Nomi kissed her again. She swallowed the guilt she felt every time Neets found herself plagued by another nightmare.

Nomi wished it was she who had pulled the trigger. She knew Henrik haunted both their memories, slipping into their thoughts when they least suspected it, but she wished she alone was the one seeing dead professor come back to life on top of that. And it wasn't because Neets regretted killing him. Death haunted people in one way or another, no matter how it happened or why.

"You have enough to deal with without seeing _him_ creeping around your dreams, Noms," Amanita half-joked, meeting her eyes. "I'll take one for the team. I'll be fine."

"You sure there's nothing else I can do to help?"

"You've been wonderful, Noms." Amanita crinkled her nose slightly, a surefire sign that she was in deep thought. Nomi watched her with a smile. "It'd be nice if there's some kind of support group," she said finally, after a pause.

"For people who fought Headhunters?"

Amanita shrugged. "Maybe. Somewhere people like us can talk. People who know the truth about all this."

"There's the Archipelago. But the thing is, we don't really know most of them," Nomi pondered. "It's more like a chain."

"Yes!" Amanita squealed and turned to her.

"What are you thinking?"

"We should get to know more sensates! Leon and the others know a lot. I mean, yeah, if you run a free Airbnb, you would."

Nomi envisioned what an Airbnb-style-house like Leon's would look like in San Francisco. This was something nice to talk about, so they may as well entertain the idea. "How are we gonna find a house that big?"

"Is there a house that big in the city?" Amanita laughed. "Maybe. But we'll need to find a - I don't know, a _patron_ or something."

"A patron." Nomi chuckled. "Sounds fancy. But it would've been so fun if we got all that. Magically. Somehow."

"Yeah." Amanita huddled closer to her underneath their blanket. "That'd be lovely."

By that point, Kala had woken up in Paris, and she'd dropped by to inform Nomi that she believed it would, hypothetically, be a fantastic idea, if only they had the resources.

It turned out it wasn't as difficult to find sponsors as Nomi believed. Especially not if she was part of the most famous Cluster in the Archipelago at the moment, and especially not if she kept in touch with Veracity hackers. Or, more precisely, if they kept in touch with _her_.

She had forgotten that, with all the new connections her Cluster had established over the past two months, the whole Archipelago had overheard her idea.

A Guy from Veracity messaged Nomi the very next morning with the contact detail of someone looking to donate their old townhouse in The Mission, conveniently a 15 minutes' ride by motorcycle from her apartment. This was someone in the know about sensates — the _sapien_ brother of a reputable sensate in the Archipelago. And then three sponsors called her that afternoon asking to meet up so they could talk business.

They checked out the townhouse the week after. It was a large but unassuming house sitting at the edge of a row of townhouses, sandwiched between a front and a back garden. The slope of the ground elevated it above the other houses of its kind so that the attic had a view of the pier. It was perfect.

By the end of the month, the Lilac Inn had a dozen staff, five rooms, a cozy, second-hand bookshop converted from the garage, and a website. The website would show the place to be fully booked, always. Only a sensate with connections would know who to call, and who to talk to about making a real reservation.

The website wasn't entirely a lie. The house hasn't been fully refurnished yet, and already, the rooms were fully booked for November. After the war, sensate travelers and company were eager to find a safe space to stay, and what better place than a hostel run by a member of _the_ August 8 Cluster and her fiancée?

One of the walls of the townhouse faced the outside, and the beige, white wall was well-worn at this point, with muddy streaks and chipped paint all over. By Hernando's suggestion, Nomi had reached out to Leon to ask if he would like to design a mural.

She had been reluctant to seek out her friend. They had parted on quite distressing terms last time, and she wasn't sure what the expectation would be when she met him again. But she knew he and his Cluster would have wanted to help. But was this a good time?

To her relief, Leon replied in an hour with just three words: _See you soon._

Three days later, Leon had shown up in San Francisco with Damien in tow. Nomi didn't expect the kid to come along, though she did know Leon had decided to take him to London. She and Bug were the ones who'd expedited his adoption paper, after all.

"Hi, Nomi. Amanita." Damien gave them a wave. His smile, though infectious as always, lacked the carefree innocence Nomi remembered from a mere two months ago.

"Hey there, Damien." Amanita crouched down to meet his eyes, smiling in return. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Damien looked at Leon. "Nah. I'm his apprentice now."

"He's working with a tutor to bring him up to speed. He'll start school in January." Leon chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "But he's not wrong. He's my finest protégé. Got quite a fine eye for artistic details."

Nomi nodded, happy that the boy found a new passion. "Are you gonna paint the mural together, then?" she asked.

"Mhmm." Damien opened his backpack, revealing paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint. "Leon taught me color theory."

"Ooh." Amanita's eyes widened. "I don't know the color theory. You are way ahead of me."

Damien tilted his chin proudly, and for a second, he beamed like he used to do before everything went south, crinkling his eyes, showing all his teeth except for the two canines that hadn't fully grown in.

Nomi pulled her fiancée in for a quick kiss. Kids were drawn to Neets, and Neets had a way of making them smile. Every time they did, Nomi fell a little more in love.

"Paint with us," Leon offered both ladies. "He'll teach you."

The four of them spent most of the morning sketching out the rough outline of the mural on the wall. Leon had designed it on his flight over. Damien had picked the colors, mixing all the different painting techniques he could think of.

The mural was going to be a vibrant painting of origami shapes arranged in a chain against a blue background — an abstract representation of an Archipelago. The islands looked like they were formed on a tangram puzzle, and the juxtaposed geometric shapes would be filled with unique, layered textures, bunched up together like Clusters.

It was eye-catching and whimsically symbolic. It was perfect.

Damien, true to his word, spent the afternoon lecturing Amanita on color schemes. ("I used a color triad in a lot of these patterns. Leon said that was genius.") He spoke in an animated way, flailing the brush in his hand about as he talked in an enthusiasm rivaled Leon's. They filled in the shapes on the lower portion of the wall together, occasionally climbing up an office table that had been brought outside to give them a boost — none of the adults agreed to let him paint on a ladder.

After working for hours on the background, the rings of lighter blue surrounding the islands, gradually growing darker as they neared the depth of the ocean, Nomi and Leon sat back to take a break, watching Damien and Neets stick gold leaves on a purple triangle.

"He's a pretty good teacher," Nomi said.

"He's better at teaching than me, that's for sure." Leon's smile was sad. "He told me he wants to be a teacher when he grows up. Like Henrik. But he wants to teach art."

The mention of Henrik made Nomi look back at Damien, her heart breaking at the thought of the boy losing two people so close to him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm not used to - I'm not used to the silence. I used to be able to hear Henrik's thoughts all the time, like it was part of my mind, too. Know what I mean?"

Nomi nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"And now it's gone." Leon's voice broke. Nomi offered him a hug, and he accepted. He took a deep breath and carried on, speaking close to her ear. "Feels like losing a part of myself, not just a part of my family."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you." He pulled away, sniffling. "People tell me I'll get used to the silence, like a new normal. But from where I'm at, I don't know if I can."

"Hang in there, okay?" she said. Saying _you will_ seemed harsh. Early August didn't feel like so long ago, even as October drew closer.

"I hope I will." Leon seemed to have heard her thought regardless. "I mean, he's not coming back. He isn't. I've accepted that now. The only way to move on… is to move on."

"If you need anything, let me know."

"Thanks." Leon turned to face Damien again. He and Amanita had finished the tricky triangle and were now tracing the outline of a parallelogram in the middle of one of the larger islands. "Gina's taking it the hardest."

"I can imagine."

Amanita turned with a raised eyebrow, silently checking up on them. Nomi gave her a nod. She beckoned them forward, a brush in hand.

"We're keeping an eye on her," Leon said, reaching for his palette knife. We've lost Henrik. We're not going to lose her, too."

"That's good." Nomi looked at the sketch Leon had put on the table, trying to figure out what colors to fill the next shape. "Anything we can help with?"

"You are helping." Leon gestured to the house. "Many of you."

"This isn't the only new sensate establishment?"

"Far from it." Leon shook his head. "Support groups are formin' all over now. Kids' shelters, too. Every third sensate I run into on the street's a volunteer of some kind. With all of us off Blockers, everyone wants to help. It's like we're all making up for lost time."

 _Maybe we are,_ Nomi thought.

Leon thought about it as he mixed three shades of yellow paint on his palette. "I think it's good that we're coming out of hiding. Getting to know each other, you know, instead of keepin' to ourselves all the time."

"Yeah." Nomi, too, had met sensates on the street as she went about her day. It was astounding how many people there were like her, how many people she wouldn't have gotten to know if BPO was still at large. "It's been - it's been great."

"It has." Leon climbed up the ladder. "After BPO took everything from us, rebuilding seems like the best way forward."

Nomi picked up a brush and dotted the small square with metallic purple. "It is."

*

Kala could tell Wolfgang was sweating through his shirt, and it wasn't just because of the overwhelming Mumbai heat.

They stood outside the Dandekar Restaurant for a minute without going in. Though the doors were transparent, no one had noticed them — Kala's family was sitting in their own dining room upstairs, waiting.

 _We'll be fine,_ Kala reassured in their minds, for her own sake as well as Wolfgang's. _Dad said he already talked to mom._

Wolfgang nodded but didn't look any more relieved. Kala took his hand. It was Sun who finally pushed the door open in their place, forcing them to enter.

"You're here!"

Daya had wrapped her arms around Kala before she realized her sister had been waiting for them downstairs. A second later Daya was pulling away again. She looked at Wolfgang, then back at Kala, raising an eyebrow. "We've been waiting for you upstairs. Is this him?"

"Good morning," Wolfgang said, hoping his voice was audible. Kala knew he was aware that he stood out in the restaurant more than he would have liked, and that made him uneasy even before he was to meet Kala's parents.

"You speak Hindi?" Daya asked.

Kala and Wolfgang looked at each other, mindful that Lito was chuckling as he dropped in on this much-dreaded meeting. They were still not used to having all their connections. Even before they went on Blockers, they conversed without the presence of others.

"Oh! Is this part of the connection?" Daya whispered now, pulling Kala past the customers towards the back stairs by the arm when it was apparent that her sister and her new boyfriend was too frozen to move. "Rajan told us. He didn't say anything about languages."

"Yes," Kala said, relieved it was a simple question. "Yes. Language is part of it."

Daya continued to talk the whole way as they walked upstairs. She complained about being holed up in a safe house all day, of having to close the restaurant, and of not hearing from Kala for weeks, all of which Kala felt guilty for. But as they reached the second floor, her sister had pulled her into another hug, and it was clear that Daya wasn't mad, just worried.

They stopped by the door leading to their apartment. "Mom will be pleased that you speak Hindi," Daya looked at Wolfgang, a sly smile on her face.

"Daya, has mom said anything about -"

But Daya had already opened the door, and before Kala could finish the sentence, she saw her parents standing in the doorway. Her father broke into a grin at the sight of Kala, while her mother surveyed Wolfgang, her expression inscrutable.

"Good morning," Wolfgang said again, deliberately in Hindi this time. "I'm Wolfgang."

Daya ushered them all inside and closed the door behind them. Now that they were all trapped in the narrow doorway, they were within arm's reach.

"Wolfgang," Kala's dad repeated the name. "Come inside."

Wolfgang let go of her hand to shake her father's, and although he was the one being scrutinized, Kala felt like she'd lost an anchor.

"You're the German?" Kala's mom asked, still watching Wolfgang impassively as they made their way to the kitchen. Kala imagined what Wolfgang must have looked like to a _sapien_ : blond, very visibly foreign, speaking fluent Hindi. Oh dear.

"Yes," Wolfgang replied, not knowing what else to say. _You have a lovely home_ sounded a lot more natural in theory, but with the cluttered state of the apartment — cardboard boxes and suitcases were strewn about, half-unpacked — it just seemed forced.

"Come, sit," Kala's mom offered. It sounded more like a command.

Kala and Wolfgang sat opposite of their parents and Daya, three against two as if this didn't already feel like an interrogation. Kala surveyed the food on the table, all her favorites, things she would have happily dug into but couldn't bring herself to touch right now. Their hands found each other's under the table again. Daya gave them a knowing wink.

Her dad smiled, a warm smile, but it only made Wolfgang's heart beat faster. Kala could feel it beating in sync with hers. "I heard there was a raid in the BPO headquarters in London. Were you two involved?"

It was not the question they had been expecting. Kala had mulled over the answer to the question they _were_ expecting while they sat on the flight. No version of _I saw him doing karaoke, and he appeared again at my wedding, naked, and told me not to marry Rajan_ would have sat well with her parents.

But she didn't stop to consider how much of everything else she wanted to divulge. And if she lied, she had a feeling they'd know. If only Kala were as good at lying as Lito.

"Tell the truth," Lito said as he appeared by their side, looking between Kala and her family.

She shot him what she hoped was a subtle glare. _Now you want me to tell the truth?!_

Lito shrugged. "Lies only delay the inevitable."

"We were," Wolfgang said, sounding calm, though he tightened his grip on her hand. "But we're all safe now."

Her mom nodded, a curt nod. "Rajan let us out of hiding a few weeks ago."

At the mention of Rajan's name, Kala's throat tightened. "How – how is he?"

It was more of an obligatory question than one she would have liked to ask. But it would be unnatural for her to merely acknowledge the fact and change the topic, especially since she had a feeling Rajan was not faring as well as he claimed about the divorce. They had only spoken once since she had moved to Paris, and only so he could give her the contact information of the divorce lawyer.

"Ajay was involved with BPO," Daya told them when her parents looked hesitant, taking the liberty to divert the topic away from the divorce herself. "Rajan was mad about that. He was talking to an agent about it."

"What? What happened?" Kala sat up in her chair, letting go of Wolfgang's hand.

She knew Wolfgang was listening intently, too, his eyes fixed on her sister. They had uncovered the truth the same day they found out Joaquín was involved. Evidence of Ajay's involvement was released to the public on their birthday thanks to the hackers, along with everything else.

First Wolfgang's aunt, then Rajan's business partner, though the former was a coincidental relation due to blood, and the latter was a newly uncovered secret. She really was involved with criminals, criminals who led to each other's downfall.

"Rajan said Ajay’s Russian contact was one of the heads of that company," Daya continued. "He was funding her operations. But it was weird, Kala — the day after your birthday, Rajan told us we could come home."

Kala frowned, pretending to be puzzled though she already knew the answer. "But how?"

"Ajay made a full confession," her dad told them. "He turned himself in. It was odd."

"Odd," Kala agreed at the same time Wolfgang nodded.

It was a wise choice, really, considering the scandal the newly released information had caused for several other businesspeople who had funded BPO's operations with full knowledge of their experiments. It would mean less time in prison. But the important thing was, he was exposed.

"We should eat," her mom said, bringing an end to the discussion. Her eyes surveyed the couple, trying to uncover some hidden secrets beneath the surface.

Of which there were many.

Scrutiny or not, Kala knew Wolfgang was visibly relieved at that suggestion. Wolfgang waited until everyone put something on their plate before helping himself, likely self-conscious of the fact that the entire Dandekar family was not-so-discreetly watching him out of the corners of their eyes.

The dal tadka was just as Kala remembered. All the trepidations of seeing her family again, of bringing Wolfgang home to see her family again, subsided for a few moments as Kala relished in the familiar taste of her favorite dish.

"I made it just for you." Her dad smiled, pushing the plate forward.

"It's _so good,_ " Kala declared.

Wolfgang dipped into the dal tadka on his plate with his naan, eagerly trying to get on her dad's good side. He took a hearty bite before Kala could warn him it was –

 _Hot,_ Wolfgang thought, frantically searching for water as he scanned the room. _Scheisse_.

To his utter embarrassment and relief, Daya pushed forward a mug full of tea, already poured in anticipation. He downed the whole cup.

Kala was the first to laugh, no thanks to her six other selves who did the same in various parts of the world. Her sister joined her a moment later. Upon seeing the pot of tea still in Daya's hand, her dad lost it, too. Finally, after rolling her eyes, her mom let out a chuckle, her eyes softening as she urged the poor _gora_ to get some mango lassi from the fridge.

"You're – you're so – so cute!" Daya exclaimed, panting as she tried to stifle her laugh.

"I'm sorry my cooking has made a poor first impression. Please give my pakoras a chance." Her dad gestured to another plate. "They're not spicy at all."

"Thank you," Wolfgang said, blushing visibly.

Kala knew Wolfgang was grateful for the awkward turn of events, even though his taste buds still burned excruciatingly in protest. The tension in the air had dissipated as they stopped laughing, and her mom, in particular, was looking at Wolfgang with more amusement, the wariness from earlier fading away. Because for all his apparent broodiness and inability to smile at anyone other than Kala (or Felix, who would cackle like a madman when he finally heard of this), he was defeated by a spicy pot of curry.

This little interlude also gave Kala the courage to smile openly at him, never mind the three pairs of eyes that watched them. She reached up to ruffle his hair teasingly as she felt her cheeks burn in his place. Daya let out an _aww_ , and when she finally looked at her family, she was relieved to see all three of them smiling.

Wolfgang grumbled at her touch, then helped himself to some much more benign pakoras. Kala tried some of that, too, just to keep him company. It was delicious, if not underwhelming compared to the dal.

"Welcome home," her mom said. Kala didn't need to meet her eyes to understand it was directed at both of them.

*

Before Capheus said goodbye to Liam and Kiira's parents on his birthday, they promised they'd make plans to visit. He had welcomed them, knowing his mother would love to see her long-lost daughter and her family more than anything, but Kiira hadn't updated him on the situation since. She had visited countless times, but each time, Capheus got the feeling she was hiding something.

Two days ago, his sister finally surprised him by showing him their visas.

For someone who hadn't flown on a plane for the first twenty-eight years of his life, Capheus found it amusing that he was driving to the airport for the third time this summer. What was more amusing was the fact that his girlfriend was sitting in the passenger seat, throwing him endless questions about being a sensate like she had been doing for the past month. In thirty minutes, half his Cluster had shown up to talk to Zakia through him per her request, trying to demonstrate sharing as they explained the pros and cons of having all your thoughts exposed.

"This is weird," Zakia concluded as Capheus made a turn on the highway, following the too-familiar route from memory. "It's like I'm talking to you, but not you. You sound different, but it's not… it's not _you_. You know what I mean?"

Capheus laughed. "Does it look like I'm possessed?"

"I haven't seen too many horror films," Zakia said, humoring him. "But I do believe you lack the prosthetic makeup of a demon."

"How's that?" He looked at her in challenge.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe scary eyes, and a hoarse, creepy sort of voice -"

" _Zakiaaaaa_ ," he whispered in his best impression of a ghostly voice.

"Hmm." She suppressed a giggle. "That's more like it."

"I should audition for a horror movie," Capheus declared. "Lito, shouldn't I be in a movie?"

Lito appeared behind him, settling himself in a second-row seat in the rented minivan. "That ominous voice isn't going to be your only line, you know," he told Capheus. "You also have to do a lot of thrashing, and strangling, and -"

Capheus turned to Zakia. "Lito doesn't think I can do it."

Zakia turned back and stared right at where Lito was. "Doesn't he?"

"Lito doesn't think the representative of Kibera should be the face of a horror film," Lito said through Capheus.

Somewhere in Mumbai, Wolfgang chuckled to himself.

"Wolfgang, back me up here," Lito called, pulling Wolfgang's consciousness out of his hotel room, to Kala's utter dismay.

"I think it'll be memorable." Wolfgang pointed out, appearing next to Lito.

Capheus snorted, slowing down as they neared the airport. "Says the man who blew up a car to make an impression."

Zakia looked at her boyfriend before turning to the ostensibly empty seats behind them, nodding at where Wolfgang and Lito sat, watching her with identical smirks. "Is someone else here? Is it Will?"

"It's Wolfgang." Capheus beamed, gesturing between his visiting Cluster-mate and girlfriend. "Wolfgang, Zakia. Zakia, Wolfgang."

"Evening." Zakia waved. "That's the German gangster?"

"Is that how you introduced me to her?"

"I told Zakia you fight well, you're deadly with a gun, and you can pick locks. And you're a fan of explosions," Capheus listed, pulling over in a parking space by the gate. "She drew her own conclusion."

Wolfgang shrugged. Of course, he couldn't argue with that.

"He's not just a gangster." Capheus got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Zakia. She got out and pulled him into a quick, impromptu kiss, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"Is he a spy, too?" She asked, pulling away with a wink.

He locked the car and took her hand, walking them over to the waiting area. "I told you Sun is the spirit of Jean Claude, yes?"

"You did."

"Well, I think of Wolfgang as the modern version of Conan."

Zakia paused to think. "Is that the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie?"

"Yes!"

"I haven't seen it," she admitted.

"Ahh!" Capheus was incredulous. They walked in through the automatic door, and he looked around, trying to spot Kiira. "We have to fix that. Have you got plans tomorrow?"

"I have the day off tomorrow," Zakia told him.

"Perfect. It's a date."

With an approving nod, Wolfgang excused himself and went back to Mumbai. Lito gave him a pat on the back before he disappeared to rehearse for a scene.

"What's your sister look like?" Zakia asked.

"She looks like my mother - oh!"

Capheus felt Kiira's glee a second before he felt someone tap on his shoulder from behind. He turned and saw Kiira standing there, tossing a bunch of keys — _his_ car keys — between her hands. "Evening, Capheus."

"How did you -"

"Capheus! Hello!"

Kiira's parents and Liam came over, suitcases in tow. Mr. Anderson, a balding man with round, gold-rimmed glasses slipping off his nose, was taking pictures of the airport. Mrs. Anderson, with blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun and warm hazel eyes, tutted her tongue at Kiira's antics while a grinning Liam offered his sister a high-five.

As they exchanged pleasantries and Capheus introduced Zakia to the family, Kiira slipped the keys back into his pocket and went to unload the luggage from the cart. _One of my Cluster_ , she thought, unveiling the mysteries behind her new skill.

 _Ahh. Right._ Capheus had forgotten he wasn't the only one who had come off Blockers. For the longest time, Mavis and Gabriel were the only things that came to mind when Capheus thought about his sister's Cluster. _Is your Cluster-mate a ninja?_

They headed back to the car, and Zakia struck up a conversation with Kiira's parents about English literature. Liam looked around quietly as he stepped outside, admiring the sunset and the heat. ("England," he declared, "is too bloody cold.")

"He's a pickpocket," Kiira whispered as she climbed into the seat behind him. "But he says ninja sounds like a good career path."

Both siblings were quiet during the ride back, bracing themselves for the reunion with their mother. Zakia engaged Mr. and Mrs. Anderson in a conversation, for which Capheus was infinitely grateful. Liam, for the most part, was looking out the window, admiring the view.

( _You have a lot in common,_ Riley thought, recalling the time he dropped in on her during her plane ride back to Iceland. Capheus couldn't help but agree. After the initial awkwardness of their first meeting had worn off, he and Liam had met up a few more times before he left for home, sharing stories about Kiira. They had come to see each other as friends.)

No amount of preparation could have accounted for the way mother and daughter stared at each other in silence, close in resemblance save for the indicators of age that set them apart. Capheus and everyone else lingered at the door to Zakia's apartment, where his mother had been waiting for them, preparing enough food to feed a small army. It was another minute before Kiira opened her arms, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug.

"My Kiira," she whispered, looking into her eyes. "I've missed you."

Kiira smiled. "It's good to see you."

Most of the dinner was spent catching up on Kiira's life. At first, they exchanged small facts, hesitant to share the more intimate moments. It was a delicate situation, and no one was sure where to go about addressing the elephant in the room. But upon Liam's suggestion, they had opened their suitcase and brought out photo albums they wanted to share, evidence of dance recitals and birthday parties down to the most excruciating detail. That seemed to have cracked the ice. Their mother looked visibly relieved that Kiira's parents were letting her back into her long-lost daughter's life, and their shared love for Kiira won over their initial fears.

Capheus, for the most part, sat back and listened, smiling appreciatively at the way mother hung on to every word. He had access to all of Kiira's memories, and they had spent the past month exchanging childhood stories, the good and the embarrassing (which Kiira made Capheus swear not to share). But telling his mother about the things he'd learned through his connection wasn't the same.

"I remember when Kiira was four," Mrs. Anderson, who insisted that Capheus called her Eleanor, told his mother as she helped herself to some sukumawiki. "She's always been such a curious child. Curious to a fault – oh my goodness, Vern," she called, tapping Mr. Anderson on the shoulder, "Vern, you've got to try this – oh Shiro, you must teach us the recipe –"

Kiira and Capheus exchanged a smirk there. He had seen her memories of her mom's attempts at cooking, most of which resulted in the endless blaring of the smoke detector as everyone tried to fan the smoke out of an open window.

Mr. Anderson — Vern — sampled some off his wife's plate. "Mm. Marvelous!"

"You're too kind, Eleanor." Capheus could tell his mom was blushing. "It's one of my favorites. One of Capheus' favorites, too."

"Yes, yes, and one of mine." Eleanor beamed. "Anyway, what was I saying –"

Vern laughed. "Are you telling the telephone story, dear?"

"Not the telephone story." Kiira planted her face in her hands.

"Oh, mom, you must," Liam egged her on. "Go on, tell them the story."

Kiira kicked Liam underneath the table. Capheus wondered if she would have been the same with him if they'd grown up together. He had a suspicion that, with their bigger age difference, the relationship would have turned out differently: more protective, less friendly rivalries. He pushed the thought away. Today, especially, he wanted to focus on what was, not what could have been.

"When Kiira was four years old," Eleanor started again, suppressing a chuckle as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "We liked to read her all these storybooks. The classics. Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl… anyway, it was right after she read _Horton Hears a Who_. I received a call from my colleague one night, and Kiira was downstairs, watching me, and she asked, 'Mommy, how do voices get through the telephone?'"

Liam jumped in. "Yes, how _do_ voices get through the telephone, Kiira? Tell them your theory. What was your theory?"

"That there were little men trapped inside the wires playing messenger," Kiira mumbled, sinking into her seat as she glared. If looks could kill.

"Kiira wanted to see how telephones worked," Vern chipped in. "She wanted to see the machines behind the buttons. She wanted to see wires, and cogs and gears, you know. And - and she wanted to talk to the little men, to see what they looked like!"

"And, being such a good scientist," Liam added, "she decided the only way to collect evidence of the little men's existence was to tear the telephone apart."

Capheus let out a cackle. Kiira gave him a look of betrayal.

Eleanor laughed. "So I come home one night after I picked up Liam from school, and the telephone was in shambles. Absolutely ripped apart. Dear God, at least she was smart enough to pull the cord out from the plug before she disassembled the whole thing — it could've been disastrous, she could've ended up in the hospital. Right. I stepped around the room to go find Vern — mind you, there were wires everywhere, and – and these bits and pieces lying on the floor –"

"I was supposed to be watching her," Vern added, "but I dozed off at the kitchen table — I'd been marking papers all day — and the little bugger ran off and took apart the telephone. The entire thing!"

Their mother looked at Kiira, incredulous. "Really?"

"I was four!" Kiira explained, in a fruitless attempt to get everyone to stop laughing.

"And Kiira was crying — bawling, practically hysterical — because she couldn't fix the telephone back up," Eleanor continued. "She was convinced the little men had run off because she'd destroyed their home and couldn't piece it back together, and she said – she said she ought to be _arrested_."

"And Liam decided to jump in on the joke, didn't you?" Vern added. "Liam offered to call the police for her, but then he took a look at the telephone and went, 'Oh, but you broke the telephone. I suppose the police will have to come find us when the little men's family reported you on.'"

"Yes." Kiira lifted her head. It was clear that she'd been laughing, too, embarrassment aside. "That was quite despicable of you."

"Took us an hour to try and convince her this wasn't a serious felony," Liam quipped, patting Kiira on the shoulder. "But the telephone was broken."

"Oh, yes, completely broken," Eleanor agreed. "We had to get it replaced. And poor Kiira was inconsolable for the entire day! _'Oh, mommy, but what if there are no books in prison?'_ "

" _Mo-om_ ," Kiira whined. "Are you finished?"

Liam turned to face his parents. "Should we tell them the story about Santa –"

"No!" Kiira shouted, at the same time her parents exclaimed, "Yes!"

* * *

**October, 2017**

By the middle of October, the interior space of Lilac Inn had been painted various shades of light and dark purple, true to its name. The second-hand bookshop was already up and running, selling donated books to fund the Archipelago's many post-war humanitarian operations. Many of the donations so far were made by members of Nomi's Cluster, who had mailed boxes of old books in various languages across the world.

Hernando had been invited to San Francisco to help Nomi and Amanita pick out the rest of the furniture, an invitation he was glad to accept. Lito and Dani were preoccupied with shooting Iberian Dreams on most days — Dani had convinced Kit to give her a role, too. Whenever Hernando visited the set, he would see Dani engaging in conversations with not only her co-stars but Kit Wrangler himself. He had a growing suspicion that Dani wanted his job someday.

And if Lito's latest role was any indication, Dani tended to get what she wanted.

As for Hernando, talking to Blake about Chekov on set had been fun, but there was only so much literature they could discuss before Hernando wished he could engage in conversation like this with more than one other person. It would appear that living in a safe house with Lito's Cluster had spoiled him. Lito's Cluster-mates and extended family all made for good company. Nomi and Amanita, in particular, were keen to discuss books.

"You finished museum-hopping in LA already?" Amanita asked, assuming control of their Ikea shopping cart as they strolled along the bedroom section.

"Not all of them." Hernando chuckled. "I'm saving the other half for later."

Nomi was walking behind them, ticking things off a checklist. "Do we want three rooms with bunk beds, or just two?"

"Huh." Amanita stopped in front of a wooden bunk bed with blue bed sheets and pull-out steps instead of ladders. "I don't know. Do we want more guests at a time?"

"Or we can charge more if there are more private rooms," Nomi suggested. "Hernando?"

He paused to think. It was a good question, a question that could determine the influx of guests at any given day in their hostel. His own experiences of traveling between safe houses had given him a new perspective on sharing a living space, not to mention the sensate condition as a whole. Based on his observations, Cluster-mates tended to congregate subconsciously even in others' presence.

"It depends on what you prioritize." Hernando nudged up his glasses, walking over to examine the unusual bunk bed. "The bonding experience of meeting new people in close proximity versus the need for private intimacy. How many of your guests are in pairs?"

Nomi scrolled through a list stored on her phone. "I think half of them are Cluster-mates, meeting up, traveling together –"

"In pairs?" Hernando asked.

"Some are pairs. Some are groups of three."

Amanita chuckled. "Not eight?"

"Most Clusters aren't so big," Nomi told them. "The average number's around four."

 _Show off,_ Amanita mouthed dramatically, giving Hernando a wink. He chuckled as Nomi turned and threw her fiancée a teasing glare.

They browsed through all the bed options and moved on. When they stopped in front of the swatches of curtain patterns, Amanita beamed. "We can add dividing curtains!"

"It's certainly versatile." Hernando ran his hand through a polyester fabric with a bird design, drawn in a style that imitated children's drawings, with the colors all out of line. "The illusion of a divided space when necessary."

"You make every decision sound like a good decision," Nomi complained half-heartedly. But she looked thoughtfully at rack fixed to the ceiling, testing how the curtains parted.

He chuckled. "I am offering you the implications of every choice. The choices are neutral in themselves. It's a matter of perspective."

"What does your _perspective_ think of pull-out beds?" Nomi asked. There was a catalog on the wall, and she took it out, flipping through the pages.

"Those that double as couches?" Amanita pointed to a beige one. "That one could work for our darker purple room."

Hernando examined it. "It's a flexible color to use. Is this for the private room?"

"Yeah. More sitting space during the day," Nomi pointed out.

As they strolled through Ikea, their discussion evolved from interior decorations and indoor plants to a debate about the merits of lamps versus overhead lights, until finally, they had ventured around the entire store twice, exhausting their energy and their budget. After waiting in an excruciatingly long checkout line and placing delivery orders for the larger pieces, the store closed, and Amanita drove them back to the inner city in their rental car.

It was a productive day, if not an unusual one, considering the last time Hernando furniture-shopped was not that long ago, and back then, there was a lot more aesthetic considerations and a lot less strategic planning. A hostel was more about the practicalities, creativity within boundaries. And a home… well, living with Lito and Dani had taught him that there was no such thing as "too much."

"I really should learn how to drive now," Nomi muttered, yawning as she leaned her head against the window.

"You should, Noms," Amanita agreed as they stopped at a red light. "I mean, you're not gonna be in a car chase any time soon, but just in case, right?"

"We're all accustomed to danger, aren't we?" Hernando pondered.

Amanita laughed. "Can you blame us?"

"Considering our biggest predicament two months ago? I believe not," Hernando quipped.

Nomi was silent for a few seconds before she reported, "Capheus just offered to teach me."

"I can teach you," Hernando volunteered.

"Don't you wanna get back to LA?" Nomi asked.

He shrugged. "I can stay a couple days. Capheus and I can switch back and forth. Hands-on instructors might give you a new perspective."

They were still contemplating the advantages of traditional learning over sensate-based knowledge acquisition by the time they reached Nomi and Amanita's apartment. Instead of helping Hernando look for a hotel, they had offered to lend their pullout couch to their "guest of honor" without much hassle. Judging by their too-many plates and the beanbag chairs strewn about the living room, their home was, truly, a home made in preparation of visitors. Managing a sensate-friendly hostel seemed right up the couple's alley.

The moment Hernando settled down at the dining table for some late night cereal, he fell into another round of small talk with them, this time discussing _The Matrix_. It felt like another guarding shift, just without the possibility of danger looming over their heads. Nomi even went so far as to joke they had absolutely no reason to stay up so late — they could all go to bed at once and not expect to be raided in the middle of the night. But no one did. They all relished in the comfort of staying up for the sake of staying up.

"How's the wedding planning going?" he asked.

"Pretty good. Our wedding planner's actually someone I know," Amanita told him. "Oliver Thomas. We were in kindergarten together."

She exchanged a smile with Nomi, sharing a wordless secret between them.

"What made you choose New Year's Eve?"

Nomi and Amanita looked at him with some trepidation, and he could guess they knew about his parents' death through Lito. It must have come up as part of the discussion. Maybe it was one of the reasons they invited Hernando here.

"It's not set in stone," Nomi started, "we can move it to early January -"

"It's okay," Hernando told them.

Amanita leaned closed across the table. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "It's fitting, after all that's happened this year."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Nomi asked.

"My New Year's Eve tradition had been the same for years," he explained. "But now everything's changing because of this war. In your lives, in Lito's, in mine, too, by extension. Maybe the dates are meant to coincide. Now I have something else, something beautiful, to associate with New Year's Eve."

Amanita nodded. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"I am," he assured them. "I can't spend the rest of my life living in the past. I can't spend New Year's Eve entirely in mourning, every year. I would like to try and change things."

"The ceremony's gonna be at night," Nomi said. "And we can stay up 'till midnight."

"Sounds perfect," Hernando said. It would give him enough time to visit his parents' grave in the early morning with his family before coming over to California again. A tribute to the past, followed by a promise into the future.

"Okay, then, it's settled," Amanita declared.

"Congratulations," he said, raising his half-full cereal bowl. They laughed and played along, raising their own bowls.

"Cheers," Amanita said.

"What are we toasting it to?" Nomi asked.

"To new traditions," Hernando said, clinking their bowls as the clock struck twelve.

"To new traditions!"

*

On Felix's birthday, Dani was the first to call. She'd waited until it was midnight in Paris to FaceTime, and he'd picked up after a mere two seconds. It wasn't like he was looking at his phone waiting. But he'd been sitting in his bed in the hotel room, thinking about her kiss as he scrolled through the selfies they'd taken in London in the two weeks after he got out of the hospital. Her call was a pleasant surprise.

"Woah," she looked at him, all wide-eyed. "Miss me much?"

He looked longingly at her face over the screen. "Every moment of my life, Dani."

As expected, she rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, silly."

"Thanks." He leaned against the headboard of his too-large bed, picking at the corner of his quilt with his free hand. "You're the first to call. You beat Wolfie."

"Should I hang up to give him a chance?" she offered.

"Nah. Let him wait for two hours."

"Why aren't you with him?"

Felix laughed. It would seem pretty reasonable to spend his birthday with his brother, sure, but he didn't really fancy third-wheeling. "We're gonna meet up at noon. Right now he's too preoccupied with someone else."

"Aww."

"I know." Finally, someone who could understand his woes. "They're insufferable. I don't know how Lito and the others put up with them."

He could tell Dani was thinking: she always twitched her nose a little whenever she did, and Felix found it adorable. "I think they're probably pro at it now. Screening out what you don't wanna see and all."

"Maybe." That was a fair point, but it wasn't like Felix could know for sure. He wasn't the fucking psychic here. "Hell, okay, I can't believe Wolfie kept a secret girlfriend from me at all. A _girlfriend_. For over a year!"

"I don't know, Wolfgang seems like a guy who can keep secrets."

"Wolfie tells me everything."

"Sure he does."

"Fine." He huffed. "I thought he did. He betrayed me."

She chuckled. "You got any other birthday plans?"

He didn't. But he didn't know where their conversation could go from there, and he really wanna keep Wolfie waiting for two hours to call him and say happy birthday for the hell of it. "Maybe I'll go to a pub."

"Two months and you've already found new drinking buddies?" Dani quirked an eyebrow.

 _But you're not here,_ Felix wanted to say. _And the guys at the pub are lame. They can barely hold their liquor. I miss drinking with you._

"I'm practicing," he told her.

"For what?"

"For beating you at two truths and a lie the next time we meet up."

That made her snort. "You wish."

"You'll see."

"Alright, then." She didn't look entirely convinced. It only made Felix wanna prove her wrong. Call it a friendly competition, belated as it would have to be.

"I miss having you around," he blurted out. Fuck. Did he say that out loud?

"Miss you too," Dani said. She looked a little hesitant, like she wanted to say something else but decided not to. "You staying out of trouble?"

"Sure," he said with confidence.

But of course, Dani saw right through it. "Don't tell me you got into another fight."

"Well…"

" _Ay_." She sighed, shaking her head. "What was it this time?"

"Well, I wasn't in any life danger."

Dani didn't look amused, and Felix could guess why. You don't usually get into life-threatening dangers unless you were Wolfie. Felix only got the short end of the stick last time because of those fucking zombies. Which, in a way, was also related to Wolfie.

Why was it always him?

"It was a bar brawl," Felix explained. "People were pissed because their team lost. Took it out on Wolfie and me."

"Did they? Why? Were you trash-talking?"

"No!" he said immediately, in a tone that suggested _yes_.

"Unbelievable. I leave you alone for two months, and you've -" Dani tutted her tongue, trying to think of the right word - " _relapsed_."

"I told you I couldn't be trusted." He grinned that stupid grin which always got her off his case. It seemed to have worked — she looked like she was hiding a smile.

"You are such a child," she chastised half-heartedly. Then, in a lower voice, "So did you win?"

"Please. When have I ever lost?"

Dani rolled her eyes.

"Plus Wolfie was there to back me up."

"To back you up, huh?"

The truth was, Wolfie had been there to save his ass from getting beat by six dudes. He'd thrown a few punches, then pulled Felix out the door before the fuckers could retaliate. They weren't in a mood for a full-on brawl, not after the fucking fiasco that was their battle against BPO only a short while ago. But Dani didn't need to know _that_.

"Come to Paris," Felix pleaded. "Come keep an eye on me."

"I'd love to," Dani said, and Felix was pretty sure she meant it. She was looking longingly at his face through the screen — or maybe his brain was deceiving him. "But I can't. Kit's given me a role, too. I'm in the studio a lot these days. Poor Hernando's getting lonely."

"What's Hernando's cure for loneliness?" Felix asked. He could take note. Wandering around Paris, bar-hopping all over Europe, and trying to sell the old key shop back in Berlin was getting too old, too quickly.

"I think he's seen, like, all the museums in LA by now."

"Ahh. Maybe I'll try the Louvre."

"Hernando would be so jealous." She laughed.

"That's why I'm doing it."

"You're so mean."

"I know."

They paused there, wondering what they could say next. Maybe Felix could've called it a night. But he didn't really want to. Talking to Dani was an excellent start to his birthday.

"We, umm," Dani started, "we'll be done with shooting before Christmas."

Before Christmas, huh? "Is that an offer?"

"Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes."

She winked. "We'll see."

As Felix finally fell asleep at two in the morning on his birthday, his last thought was that New Year's Eve couldn't come soon enough.

Okay. Fine. Four months apart from Dani had its perks, however little they may be. For one thing, Felix had enough time to learn how to dance. Proper dance, not the clubbing type of dance he used to do. He didn't feel like going to clubs these days anymore. Playing drinking games with random strangers had lost its appeal.

The hackers at Veracity must've been loaded. After they all parted ways in late August, everyone who had taken part in the battle was compensated big time, and no matter how many times they tried to give the money back, the Guys wouldn't have it. They insisted there were sponsors among the Archipelago who wanted to thank the August 8 Cluster and allies for their contribution.

So Felix got himself a salsa instructor, and new shoes, and a proper tuxedo to go with the new tie Leon had sent him as a birthday gift. He couldn't go back to wearing an oversized suit jacket again.

His instructor, Mariana, was the type of woman Felix used to long for.

She was always wearing some shade of red, and the color made her glow in a dangerously intoxicating way. There was no denying her allure. She was hot, smoldering hot, especially when they danced. And she was three years older than Felix, which generally would have made him want her even more.

Her crimson dress billowed in the air as they spun around the dance studio. Felix pulled Mariana towards him and watched her twirl. When her body was close enough for him to make out the small beauty spot beneath her collarbone, he did look, for a second — he wasn't blind.

"What's on your mind?" Mariana asked, a teasing smile on her face.

She quirked an eyebrow, daring Felix to make a witty remark, something that would get her to laugh and maybe even tease him back.

The old Felix would have jumped at the chance to flirt with Mariana. He would have claimed he was a genius at salsa; honestly, he was just out of practice. And Felix would try to bait her with his moves and get her to talk about herself as he gawked and pretended to listen. Now and then he'd throw in something completely made-up from his own life, like that time he and his friend Wolfie took down four bouncers and stole a motorcycle and rode to the fucking Berlin Wall with five police cars chasing them down, then managed to get away by stowing away underneath an Erdinger delivery truck.

But instead of wanting to say something funny the moment Mariana showed interest, Felix found himself wishing he was dancing with someone else.

"I'm preparing this dance for someone special," he said instead, meeting her eyes.

Dark brown eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and a dash of gold. Brown like Dani's.

But not like Dani's, because if he'd seen Dani's eyes again, he didn't think he would have been able to look away. With Mariana, he could. He looked at his new golden shoes and admired the way the metallic leather caught the warm glow of the ceiling light.

Mariana stopped dancing. "She's a lucky woman."

"No." Felix let go of her and shook his head, loosening his tie. "I'm the lucky one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. **Major announcement for all the Veracity fans out there:**
> 
> I am not ready to say goodbye to this little universe I've built around the Sense8 canon. Not even after the special comes out. This is what happens when you make too many OCs, I tell ya. Ya get attached. 
> 
> Anyway, since I'm not ready to let go, and there's so much left that I can weave into stories, AND some of you have expressed the same sentiment (that you want MORE from me), I've decided to expand this work into its own little series. 
> 
> I call it the **Veracity 'Verse, and it will feature stories of my OCs (or the canon characters, so long as it's compliant with the details of this fic) before, during, and after Veracity's timeline**. 
> 
> I'm taking short prompts right now because I'm graduating in May so I don't have time to start on my other big WIPs yet. In case you were wondering what kind of prompts I meant, here are the ones on my list so far:  
> \- A Leon x Genevieve fic, taking place 2 years after Veracity has ended.  
> \- A Kiira-centric fic about her coming to terms with her unusual family, before and after meeting Capheus.  
> \- A fic about Lito and María as children.  
> \- A fic about Lito and María's life after Veracity's timeline, when they meet up again and hang out with Lito's kids (I actually have ideas about his crazy mess of a family).
> 
> So, yeah! Anything you'd like to see, you can drop me a comment here, or send me an ask on my tumblr blog @chaptersonetoinfinity. I can elaborate on my OCs' backstories, or "deleted scenes" in Veracity itself (e.g. Lito trying to explain his sensate situation to a very baffled Lito and Dani, Kalagang being soft and sappy and fluffy as Kala worked in the lab, etc.), or I can show you what some of the characters are up to as they pick up the pieces after the war :)
> 
> I will say, though, that I have limited knowledge about smut, so if you're looking for a smutty fix, I suggest you check out the works of many other fic writers in this fandom. I'll leave that to the experts, and stick to what I do best: angst and fluff, usually a combo of both XP
> 
> (And in case you were wondering, no, this is not an April Fool's prank. I mean it. Throw prompts at me. But I can't guarantee how fast they'll be filled, m'kay?)


	39. In the name of Veracity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some stories draw to an end.
> 
> “Nothing venal, vile or vainglorious. Rather a vital vertex of virtue, valor and virtuosity in the name of veracity.”  
> — From S2E5, “Fear Never Fixed Anything”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Look at that! We are SO CLOSE to the end! Alas, real life slowed me down a bit, but here's the second-to-last chapter now! Enjoy :D

**November, 2017**

Amsterdam was more peaceful than Riley remembered, especially after it had snowed. Quieter, too, now that she didn’t have to perk her ears and listen to every sound nearby, wondering if it was a Headhunter looking to capture her. Will walked slowly beside her and held her hand, careful not to injure his newly-healed leg by slipping on ice.

“Lovely house,” he said, looking up at the quaint structure standing in front of them.

It was an old townhouse painted a sunny shade of yellow. Colorful handprints decked the walls around the first story of the house, pressed onto the old, crackling paint by the children who lived inside and the adults who worked there, including Gina.

“It is.” Riley smiled.

The Sensorium children’s shelter looked very lived-in for an organization that only started a month ago, apparently refurnished, though the cracks on the walls and the wear of the little cobblestone lane in the front garden spoke of old memories. Perhaps, like the Lilac Inn, it had once been a house for a family but was now donated to support the _Homo sensorium_ children who are orphaned after the war against their species.

“Wiley!”

Before Riley could turn to the source of the call, she was tackled on the legs by a toddler from behind. Amélie’s beaming face looked up at her. Riley lowered herself to pick her up, groaning as she realized the girl had grown bigger since the last time she saw her.

“Sorry.” Clara approached, balancing giant paper bags full of groceries in her arms. “She saw you. I could not keep her from running off.”

“It’s alright. Here.” Will came over to help her carry them into the house, taking most of her bags despite her protest.

“You remember me?” Riley asked the squirming child in her arms as she followed.

“ _Ouais_!” Amélie nodded yes, bobbing her head with overwhelming enthusiasm. “Pwomise!”

“She kept her word.” Clara set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, then began placing vegetables into the fridge. “She talked about you a lot after we left. Both of you.”

Two boys, who looked like brothers, stood by the stairs and looked at the new visitors, the younger one fiddling with the wheels on his toy train. They didn’t approach Will and Riley, but Amélie babbled to them in animated chatter, speaking a mix of French and Dutch. Riley sat down at the dining table with Amélie still on her lap, amused that young children could pick up languages so quickly. She wondered how much of her words the child understood. Enough to keep a promise, that was for sure.

“It’s alright. Come,” Clara prompted in Dutch, beckoning the boys over. They obliged and shuffled closer, joining Clara at the kitchen counter, but eyed the visitors warily.

Will frowned, confused, before he picked up the meaning of Clara’s words from Riley. Riley hadn’t used Dutch for quite some time. Some members of her father’s orchestra had been Dutch, and she had a good grasp on the language from when she was young, which (she remembered with a sigh) helped a lot when she and Will hid in Amsterdam months ago.

Clara came over to pick Amélie up and carry her upstairs, insisting she needed a nap, to which she protested loudly. Riley walked over to the boys, lowering herself so she could meet their eyes. “ _Wat zijn jouw namen?_ ” she asked. _What are your names?_

The older boy hesitated, but his brother mumbled, “Jesse.”

“ _Ik ben_ Riley.” Riley held out her hand, which he shook. “ _Dit is_ Will,” she told them, gesturing to Will, who had walked over. He waved.

“I’m Julian,” the older boy told Will.

When Riley looked up again, she noticed Gina standing behind the boys, her smile tender but melancholic, the dark circles under her eyes giving away her lack of sleep. Gina laid a hand on Julian’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Julian beamed and took his little brother by the hand, running over to the living room to turn on the TV.

“We found a home in America willing to take them both once the hackers take care of the paperwork,” Gina explained, perching herself on a high stool in front of the kitchen counter. “I’ve been trying to teach them English.”

Riley glanced over at the boys, who were now huddled on a beanbag chair in front of the TV watching _Hotel Transylvania_. Jesse was running his toy train up and down Julian’s arm, to his brother’s irritation. Julian tried and failed to shove the younger boy off the seat, and Jesse retaliated, fighting back and forth in the way typical of brothers.

It pained Riley that the boys would be sent to live in a foreign country, away from the home they grew up knowing, but it was a consolation that they wouldn’t be separated.

“We got one family here in Amsterdam a couple weeks ago looking to adopt,” Gina told them, picking up Riley’s thoughts as she went to get water for all of them. “But they only wanted Jesse. The boys wouldn’t have it.”

“Of course not.” Will agreed, perching himself on a high stool by the kitchen island.

“It’s madness in this house. Ten kids at the moment, and then there’s Amélie. Bernice took some of them to the park,” Gina explained before Riley could ask, thinking of a kindly woman with graying hair, a volunteer who had worked at the shelter since October.

“Are the adoptive parents all Sensates?” Riley asked.

Gina thought about it. “Some are. But they’re all in the know. The hackers did a lot of background checks before they reached out.”

“That’s good,” Will said.

“It’s been hard to find families for everyone. Shelters are overcrowding all over. Not just here.” _BPO did a fucking number on us,_ she thought.

“How are you?” Riley asked, noting the weariness of Gina’s eyes.

Gina sighed, looking down at her hands. “Genevieve drops by every evening. She’d probably live here if we weren’t out of rooms,” she pointed out. “But it helps, having her around.”

Genevieve, Riley knew, had decided to finish studying photography in Amsterdam at Gerrit Rietveld Academie to keep Gina in check. _We’ve lost Henrik,_ she’d told Riley when she’d visited a few days back. _We’re not losing her too._

“How’s Genevieve?” Riley diverted, knowing she needed space.

“She likes her classes. But she has trouble with the language.” Gina gave a dry chuckle, visibly relaxing. “You really do take the language thing for granted.”

 _We really do,_ Will thought.

But Gina retained her memories of Henrik’s language even after his passing. In Gina’s memories, Riley saw her communicate with Henrik in Dutch. Henrik did the same, alternating between English and Thai. They had familiarized themselves with each other’s cultures instead of relying on the shared knowledge from their connection.

Sensates’ memories, of course, remained after death, unlike their connections. Gina could recall what she had learned, though the memories felt distant now that she could make out all the unfamiliar syllables instead of perceiving the words solely in meaning. It was like looking at a different version of herself, one who had never connected with Henrik in the particular way known to Sensates.

“It feels odd knowing I’m speaking in foreign words,” Gina said. “Dutch never felt foreign to me before. This is all very new. I don’t know if I’ll ever be used to it.”

Will nodded. “If you need anything…”

“Thank you.” Gina looked up, putting on another tense smile.

Hours later, after sharing dinner with the volunteers and children residing in this shelter, Riley and Will left for their hotel with a promise to bring her papa back here in three days after he finished playing with the orchestra in Vienna. He was working on new songs just for them. The children had been excited to hear a musician wanted to play music for them.

“I wish I could do more for these kids,” Will said as they strolled into the park where she had taken him ice-skating last year.

“We took down the people who killed their parents,” Riley pointed out, looking at their footprints against the thin layer of snow on the ground.

“We did. We made sure the’se children are safe. But it doesn’t bring their parents back.”

“No,” Riley agreed. “It doesn’t.”

*

In the basement lab at the Paris safe house, Kala chanted the ingredients as she added them to a clear solution, brows furrowed in concentration. She said each word like it was a prayer. Wolfgang found himself smitten as he sat on the high stool by the lab bench. He watched her work, the syringe he was filling hovering in midair, forgotten.

It was, as Kala had told him the week before, a solution that amplifies a Sensate’s brain’s signals rather than dissolves them. An opposite-Blocker, in a manner of speaking, used to help Sensates identify and detect others of their kind at a greater distance. Mr. Hoy ( _Allistair_ , Wolfgang corrected in his mind), who had come back to the lab in the Paris safe house to work with Kala and others, had dubbed it _the Reverberator_.

“Wolfgang,” she prompted, looking up.

He jostled from his trance, jerked his arm back, and promptly knocked a beaker into the sink. “Shit! _Shit_ ” – he fished it out, but the liquid had poured down the drain.

“It’s okay.” Kala laughed, walking over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “It was just water. I should have set the beaker down in the sink.”

“Oh.” Wolfgang straightened himself. “Uhh, good.”

Kala plucked the syringe from Wolfgang's hand and held it against the light, squinting at the measurements on the side. “You need to fill these up to here.” She pointed. “Two more units, see? We’re not certain what the effects are if they’re administered at a lower dosage than recommended.”

“Right. Sorry.”

 _I told you, bhediya,_ she thought, frowning, _no more apologies._

Wolfgang smirked. _I was preoccupied._

“Knew I should’ve let Wolfgang help with lunch. You’re distracting each other.” Miki appeared in the lab, sliding open the double-sided door. “You said you wanted panther cap mushrooms?” she asked Kala. “Topher said he’s gonna bring it this afternoon.”

“Oh, good!” Kala perked up but gave Wolfgang’s hand a squeeze before she walked over to Miki. “Yes. I want to sample my new Reverberator formula with these since –”

“Since panther caps are also polypliotic?” Miki finished.

It had only been two weeks since Miki had come back to her old safe house to help with the more benign research into sensacity, a volunteer-based program generously sponsored by members of Veracity and the Archipelago. Her extensive knowledge of healing plants and herbs had been of great assistance. Already, she and Kala could finish each other’s sentences.

Kala chuckled. “Yes. Precisely.”

“I gotcha. These seem like a pretty good bet. Better than those coast redwood barks we tried last week.”

Kala cringed. Wolfgang knew she was remembering their failed attempts at fitting a piece of shredded tree bark into a microscope slide. Botany, Kala had claimed, was not her favorite aspect of science, though it was necessary to study the components of the plants if she was to draw inspiration from them.

“Perhaps the spores inside the panther cap mushrooms will be more responsive to my solution,” Kala said. “It’s not a finalized product yet, but Allistair says my current formula should be enough to trigger a reaction.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Miki turned to leave, thinking lunch was ready.

Despite Miki’s seemingly positive attitude, something lingered at the edge of her mind, a familiar sense of grief dulled down by purposeful avoidance. The feeling was familiar to Wolfgang. Miki was repressing her emotions. She had to be. But Miki walked past the central staircases as if sensing his suspicions. They found themselves ascending from the back stairs, a much more frequented place now that a dozen scientists were coming in and out of the basement lab all day.

On the faded wall, there was a new photograph, one that stood in the middle, drawing attention despite its rather simple blue frame. It was a colorful portrait of Miki and her four Cluster-mates taken in their back garden during an unusually sunny day in spring. Miki by the photo, her mind clouding over with thoughts she tried to shove aside. All of her Cluster had written their names with gold metallic ink over the bottom line. Henrik had put an _l_ in place of the _i_ in his name before hastily dotting it on top. His name was next to Gina’s, printed in neat characters in Thai.

Wolfgang didn’t know what to say, but his sentiment was clear. Miki gave him an appreciative nod, and Kala put her hand on Miki’s shoulder, steering them all up. They walked to the kitchen in silence. Wolfgang glanced at the other photos as he passed. All photos of their past guests were colored now, the black and white ones re-printed and replaced. Wolfgang remembered the photo he kept of his mother, the colors fading with age. She looked more lively that way, protected in a happier moment in time.

“Thank you,” Kala said, sitting down at the table. She gave a quick wave to Mr. Hoy and Kristy, who were lounging in the living room, before she dug into her panang curry.

“It’s Gina’s recipe,” Miki said, passing her a slice of lime. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she told them, “Leon said it’s ‘an invaluable part of the Château Tucker experience’.”

Wolfgang gave one of his rare but appreciative smiles before he dug into his portion, appreciating the sweet-savory taste with minimal spiciness, unlike everyone else’s curry. Embarrassingly, all the people working in this house knew about his unfortunate run-in with Sanyam Dandekar’s dal. In Kala’s defense, she hadn’t actively told the story. But Wolfgang had swallowed in fear as Kristy began to toss chili peppers into the pan during their first lunch back, and the Sensates had seen the memory.

“It’s good,” he said.

Miki looked into empty space for a moment, then returned, her smile tense but sincere. “Gina says thank you.”

“How is she?” Kala asked.

“We’re keeping an eye on her.” Miki sighed. “None of the others wanna be back in this house yet.”

“You’re the first?” Wolfgang asked.

Miki nodded. “I didn’t want to be, but I knew I should. I can’t heal those who have passed, but I want to help the survivors. That’s what we all decided to do from the start when Leon got us this house. We’re not gonna stop because BPO’s gone, because _Henrik’s_ gone.”

Wolfgang thought about all Nomi, Bug, and the other hackers had done, trying to reveal the nature of the BPO-inflicted terrorist attacks without giving away the true nature of Sensates and the extent of their powers. Telling _that_ would have meant pitting Sensates against Sapiens in this world at large. Knowledge about Sensates wasn’t knowledge meant to be given once and for all. Acceptance was a curve, not all-or-nothing. People were reluctant to change their views on things. _Some_ people never change them at all.

“BPO’s gone, but the war hasn’t ended,” he said.

 _No_ , Kala and Miki thought. _It hasn’t._

Wolfgang didn’t know if it ever would. Kala was more optimistic about their eventual acceptance by the world, a positivity he found wildly contagious now that they were re-connected. And now that BPO was a thing of the past, now that the truth about sensacity has been entrusted to the Sensate population at large to reveal or conceal, Wolfgang had to admit they were better off than before. At least.

*

The ocean wind was dead chilly at this time of year, but Amanita couldn’t pass up a chance to take a detour with Noms and see the beach before they headed back to their apartment that night. After they left the Lilac Inn, they zipped past the highway on the coastline on the motorcycle and found a good place on the beach to sit, pulling out the blankets Amanita always kept in the basket.

“It’s almost midnight,” Nomi said, checking her phone.

Amanita draped the fleece blanket around their shoulders, huddling closer. “We don’t have to go in tomorrow morning.”

They had spent the past few hours chatting with two guests at the Lilac Inn, a Swedish couple who chose San Francisco as their first stop on a cross-country road trip. Linnea ran a bakery near their home in Sigtuna, and her wife, Maja, wrote storybooks for children. Though she and Noms had planned to leave early that afternoon, they had found themselves drinking too much coffee in the kitchen until late. For hours, they discussed the merits of women characters in science fiction, snacking on lemon cakes as they flipped through a second-hand copy of _Neverwhere_ given to them by a Sensate guy who had passed by here during a drive up to Berkeley last week.

Amanita couldn’t recall what exactly had been said, only that she knew her mom would have been jealous she wasn’t there with them. The four of them had rambled at each other effortlessly for hours, alleviating the headache Amanita had woken up to this morning with caffeine. Nomi seemed like she enjoyed herself, though Amanita was certain that during most of the talk, other members of Noms’ Cluster had dropped in to nod and hum contemplatively at whatever was being said, leaving only when they had to.

“We have to meet with Oliver at eleven,” Nomi reminded her.

“Ahh. Shit. It’s at eleven?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s too damn early.”

“Is the headache still bothering you?”

Amanita nodded, mindful of the throbbing, pulsing sensation behind her eyes creeping back with increased intensity. She massaged her temples, telling the pain to get the fuck away. The coffee, it seemed, was too temporary of a solution. A shame, since she wanted to sit here with Noms and stay up and possibly watch the sunrise.

“Neets, I’ve been wondering… could it be a migraine?”

“Like, a Sensate migraine?” She turned to look at Nomi. _No fucking way,_ she thought.

 _Why couldn’t it be a Sensate-birth-type migraine?_ her logic countered. Maybe she’d known Noms to be the Sensate in far too long, and their Sensate-plus-Sapien arrangement felt like it would always be that way, something permanent, something that gave them different perspectives but a shared experience. But who knew? Didn’t Kala once say there were way more Sensoriums lurking out there than they had all believed?

“Where’s it hurting?”

“At the front. Like, behind my eyes. And here” – Amanita rubbed her temples again. Nomi put her arm around Amanita. She laid her head on Nomi’s head, grateful for some kind of anchor — she felt like her head was spinning a little.

Nomi kissed her temple. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” Amanita closed her eyes. “I wanna stay like this. Just sitting here on this beach, _not_ moving again because fuck that, and you can kiss me endlessly ‘till I’m all better.”

“I can do that. You want me to cancel the appointment tomorrow?”

“Nah. Oliver’s a busy guy. And rescheduling’s a bitch.”

“He does have a lot of clients.”

Amanita chuckled. Not in a million years did she expect Oliver Thomas to end up as a wedding planner, and a fucking great one at that. Then again, she hadn’t seen him since kindergarten after he’d moved to San Diego, and though he had presented himself as shy back then, Amanita suspected there was more to him. If only she’d made an effort to get to know him better. There always was a hidden layer in people who didn’t talk much but looked like they had a lot to say.

But Amanita, for once, had no idea how to approach him again after their conversation about family trees, uncharacteristically at a loss for words for a girl who couldn’t restrain herself finishing her teachers’ sentences. She had hesitated for too long that whatever she could have said was lost on her. And then he’d moved, and she never got another chance.

“Too many,” Amanita agreed. “But he’s good at this. And he only started two years ago.”

They had spent half of their first wedding planning section catching up as Noms listened with a big smile on her face. Noms always loved hearing her childhood stories, most likely because it involved no shitty parents and a lot more cringe-worthy shenanigans. Oliver had dabbled in more so-called “sensible” jobs but found himself bored to tears. Wedding planning was fun, he’d said. Perfect families were a gift, and a good wedding, for couples who wanted one, was a way to honor that.

“We’re so lucky,” Nomi said after they stared at the waves for a few moments.

“We are.”

“ _I’m_ so lucky. This is the kind of life I get to live every day.”

“Well.” Amanita held up her hand, smiling at the way the silvery band and stones shimmered under the soft glow of the full moon. “I’m honored to be part of it, Noms.”

Nomi turned to peck her on the lips, catching her by surprise. It brought a bit of reprieve to her growing may-or-may-not-be-a-Sensate-migraine migraine before Noms pulled away too quickly for her liking. “You sure you don’t want a giant ceremony?”

Amanita raised an eyebrow. “Is this Lito talking? Or you?”

“It’s me. Although I think Lito would be down. He’d probably try and rent us his whole movie studio if he could.”

“An LA wedding with a thousand guests? I’ll pass.”

“With a thousand guests _and_ a five-tier cake,” Nomi amended.

“God, no.” Amanita imagined a movie studio full of directors and cameras and actors still in costumes, and a grinning Lito sitting at the forefront of the whole ceremony with a flashy red Gucci designer’s suit. “That’s about nine-hundred-and-fifty people too many for me.”

“You just wanna be married already?”

“Exactly,” Amanita agreed. “I don’t need five-hour ceremonies. I just wanna make my vows, and kiss you on the altar for, like, an hour, and then go right to the cake. The cake’s gonna be the _second_ -best part.”

“So, no dancing?”

Sneaky. Amanita glared pointedly at her fiancée. “Uh-uhh. Nomi Caplan-Marks, you are not getting away with no dancing.”

“Fine,” Nomi grumbled, her real emotion betrayed by the upturning tick of her mouth.

Oliver had adjusted the ceremony planning to accommodate the tastes of all the guests, mixing in old traditions with original twists. Amanita was unorthodox in many ways, but she wanted to have the first dance with her bride at the wedding like all couples did. It could be a clumsy, giddy sort of dance, a dance that made them trip over the hem of each other’s dresses or step on too many toes — she imagined she’d be too fucking happy to care about formalities — but it would be theirs, and it would be memorable.

“I wanna share the first dance with the love of my life,” Amanita said.

“Who, me?”

Cheeky. Amanita lifted her head and swatted Nomi on the arm with a laugh, regretting the decision instantly as her head began throbbing again. “Fucking hell. How long do these migraines take to go away?”

“The rebirth happens a few hours after it starts.” Nomi frowned, thinking. “Maybe a day, but I don’t think mine took that long. It’s gonna stay for days after, though. You wanna go home and sleep ‘till it’s gone?”

“I can’t ride.” Amanita looked at her motorcycle, squinting. The edges were blurring a little, and it wasn’t only because she was tired and she could sleep for a whole fucking day. “I don’t think I can see straight.”

“Ha-ha.”

Despite the pain in her head, Amanita snorted at the unintentional pun.

“I’ll take us back. C’mon.” Nomi stood and pulled her up, thankfully keeping the blanket wrapped around Amanita’s shoulder. Nomi stuffed the picnic blanket back into the basket and put on the helmet, sitting in the front.

“Since when did you learn to ride a motorcycle, Noms?”

“I don’t have to.” Nomi kissed Amanita before fixing the other helmet around her head. “Capheus is awake.”

Like Noms predicted, the rebirth fell into full speed at around ten the next morning as the migraine (finally) began to fade. As they were departing their place to go to Oliver’s office, Amanita stopped in front of their little angel statue by the door, frozen. A man wearing an apron and a jovial expression appeared in the doorway, his grin fading, replaced by a look of surprise when he realized he was standing in someone’s home.

Nomi figured out what was happening right away, and she waved at empty space, facing the wrong direction, before heading out the door to give them some space.

“I’m Amanita,” she said, stepping closer, holding out her hand, which the man looked hesitant to touch.

He reached out slowly, gasping in shock when he felt solid skin. “What’s happening?”

“I suspect you’ll find out soon enough.” Amanita winked. She hoped their Parent would be able to explain all this, as it was pretty unlikely that they’d die before they get the chance. She didn’t see anyone shoot themselves in a church. That should’ve been a good sign.

The man — Amanita knew he was a chocolatier as soon as she wondered about the apron — turned his head, taking in his surroundings. “Is this… is this your home?”

“Yeah. Uhh, welcome.” She gestured around, pointing at the exposed brick walls with posters of literary humor, at the unmade bed and the beanbag chairs lying around. “Noms and I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I’d have visitors already.”

Amanita felt like he was gonna ask why she was anticipating all this, or who Noms was. But all he did was frown, then sigh, wondering if this was a weird dream. “I’m Romain.”

“Romain,” Amanita repeated. “Good to see you. I expect you’ll see the others soon.”

With that, Romain disappeared, and Amanita ran out the door and locked it, humming to herself as she skipped down the hallway. Her temples still throbbed like her veins were trying not to burst open, but the migraine didn’t seem as bad today. Maybe it was because she’d confirmed she was a Sensate, and that fact, alone, made the pain more than worth it.

Nomi was waiting by the front steps. The moment their eyes met, a flood of emotions threatened to plunge Amanita deep into what must have been her fiancée’s memories, the ones they’d experienced together and the ones before. With that, came a brimming, warm sensation of what must have been love, multiplied now that they could share it with so many other selves. Before they got on the motorcycle, Lito — it must’ve been him — whooped and cheered and swooped Amanita into a hug in Nomi’s place, lifting her off the ground.

FaceTime without a phone just got a whole lot better.

* * *

**December, 2017**

“Wolfgang, it’s snowing,” Kala whispered.

He groaned and turned in bed, squinting as he made out the hands on the clock. “It’s six in the morning.”

“It’s snowing!” she repeated, pulling the comforter off of them both. She pattered to the window in bare feet, standing in tip-toes as she crossed her arms on the ledge and looked outside, smiling.

Wolfgang got up and slipped on his robe before joining her at the window, resting his chin on top of her head, much to her irritation. He breathed out slowly, fogging up the glass. They watched as the fog faded to reveal a whole street covered in snow. It was a Saturday, Kala knew, so no one would be up and about yet.

“I want to go outside,” she told him.

“It’s cold,” he warned.

Rolling her eyes, Kala walked over to the closet to pick out the warmest sweater she could find — the oversized gray one she’d stolen from Wolfgang when Felix had delivered his clothes to Paris along with the rest of his things. Within five minutes she was out the door all bundled up, dragging a begrudging Wolfgang behind her.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, tilting her head up to face the sky. A snowflake fell on her cheek and melted instantly. She giggled.

He laid his hands on her shoulder and tilted forward so she could make out his face backwards. “That’s because the snow hasn’t turned to mud yet.”

“Let’s make the best of it, then,” she said, appearing behind him.

Wolfgang turned to look, a mistake she had anticipated. Kala had visited him purposefully so he could look away from her, the real her. A snowball whizzed through the air and whacked the back of his head, soaking through the yarn of the ridiculous reindeer-patterned hat she had pulled on him before they left.

The cold, it seemed, woke Wolfgang up instantly.

She threw another snowball his way before he could turn to face her, this one hitting right below the collar of his coat. As he ducked down to make up a few snowballs of his own, she yelped, ran, and took cover behind a tree, peeking her head out to watch.

He approached the tree with three snowballs in hand and a determined look on his face, sporting the broody expression he used to wear before he marched into a confrontation with an enemy. Kala pulled her head back as the first snowball flew past. Wolfgang was circling the tree, stepping left and right, trying to catch her off guard.

Kala pulled her beanie tighter around her head like it could shield her from the onslaught. For a moment, Wolfgang didn’t move, and Kala wondered if he was trying to wait for her to take the first step. And then the tree rattled with her hand still pressed against it, and the snow fell off the branches, showering her with a layer of cold.

“Wolfgang!” She yelped, shaking the snow off her like a puppy out of water.

She grabbed a handful of snow in her mittens and threw it directly over his face as he came around to gloat. The powder flew through the air, blocking his vision for a second. Kala took that opportunity to run around him and the tree before assaulting him with two snowballs from behind.

“This is war!” Capheus declared, his visiting form standing between them.

The entire Cluster was roused from whatever they were doing back home, some in the middle of a dream. It was decided unanimously that the ladies would fight on Kala’s side while the guys tried to keep Wolfgang from an embarrassing defeat. Four against four. The loser was whichever side surrendered first.

It was difficult to keep track of who did what, and although the ladies were all technically taking turns inhabiting Kala’s body, it felt like they were standing beside her, supplying fight tactics and snowball-making strategies and tips on how to knock Wolfgang off his feet. Riley, having grown up accustomed to too much snow, proved herself to be adept at scrunching up snowballs in a matter of seconds. Nomi weaved through everyone’s minds, anticipating where the guys were planning to throw their next projectile, pushing Kala’s body out of the way in time every time.

And with Sun’s deadly aim, soon Wolfgang and the rest of the guys were forced into playing defense, shielding their faces as they were pelted by endless snowballs. Kala found herself stepping closer and closer to Wolfgang. She laughed wickedly, ready to shove another fistful of snow through his collar.

But Sun had other ideas. With a chuckle, she inhabited Kala’s body and lunged forward, knocking Wolfgang over until he was lying in the snow with Kala on top. He tried to get up with Will’s help, but Sun was unrelenting, pinning him by both wrists, sitting on top of his thighs… All he could do was thrash about on the ground. With a groan, he surrendered silently, accepting his defeat.

“Whoo!” Capheus ran around, not caring that his side had lost while Lito put on a big show of pretending to sob. “Snow! Aha!”

Wolfgang was still lying on the ground when the Cluster disappeared one by one, the ladies smug and the guys amusedly dejected. Kala had let go of his wrists and was lying on top of him, her head over his chest, mindful of the fact that they were both very much soaked and shivering, the tips of their noses red.

“I need coffee,” he grumbled.

She pushed herself up by her elbows and inched forward. Their eyes met, then she kissed him, tasting snow on their lips. He put his arms around her and pulled her down so she was lying on top of him again, tightening his grasp so she couldn’t free herself.

“Well, fuck,” they heard Felix say. Kala looked up and saw Felix standing by the tree a couple paces away, holding a tray with three cups of coffee.

That was a surprise. Kala knew Felix was visiting again this weekend — really, he’d been living at the hotel despite hating everything French, claiming that Berlin was boring without Wolfgang there — but she hadn’t expected him to be up so early.

“Morning, Felix," she said, pushing herself up before helping Wolfgang to his feet.

“I came down here to see if you wanted a snowball fight,” Felix said, shoving a cup of coffee into Wolfgang’s gloved hands, “but you started without me.”

Felix started walking. They followed, knowing he was leading them to the café two blocks away from their apartment that always opened at 5 A.M. It was a little establishment the three of them often frequented, so much that on the rare occasion Kala and Wolfgang visited without Felix, the kind lady working the early morning shift would ask where he was.

Kala pulled off her own gloves and accepted a cup from Felix, grateful that it was hot enough to warm her hands. “We have all day,” she told him as they crossed the street. “After breakfast, we can start round two.”

“Yes!” Felix exclaimed, at the same time Wolfgang muttered, “Fuck.”

*

Out of all the times Kwon-Ho arrived purposefully and fashionably late, this wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

He had an afternoon shift on Christmas Eve which ended at four, and he had come out early enough to beat the traffic before rush hour, or so he thought. Sun was waiting for him at that new upscale restaurant near her company with the name he couldn’t remember for the life of him. They were supposed to spend the night, drinking and chatting away.

Okay, he wasn’t super late. It was around six o’clock by the time he got to the restaurant-bar, but Sun had told him to be there at 5:50. He was never late for any of their dates. Neither was she, but then again, punctuality seemed to come naturally to Sun. He had seen her eleven more times since their first not-a-date at Yeouido Park, and she always arrived five minutes before him, no matter how early he thought he was.

“You’re late,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder from behind. “Later than usual.”

Kwon-Ho turned and saw Sun holding two strawberry mojitos, eyeing him with an amused look. She must have come from the bar in the center of the room. “Sorry,” he told her, scratching the back of his head.

She nodded at a booth nearby, and they made their ways over. Two menus sat on the table waiting. She set down the mojito glasses, pushing one over to him. “Lito recommended it.”

“He seems to know a lot about alcohol.”

Sun flipped through the menu, not looking at him. “There is a lot you don’t know about Lito. About any of us.”

She was trying to challenge him to say something witty about how he knew more than she suspected, but all he could do was grin.

It was a restaurant that made an effort to include a bit of everything. The collection of cuisines on the menu certainly showcased their efforts at diversity, but Kwon-Ho was pretty sure Sun picked it more for the vibe than the food itself.

The miso ramen looked good, or the enchilada. Kwon-Ho thought he might ask if she wanted spring rolls and the goguma mattang to share — Nomi had told him Sun had a weakness for sweet potatoes. He gave her the suggestions, and she nodded. She turned abruptly to her side and scowled, most likely to an invisible Nomi.

A moment later she turned back, regarding Kwon-Ho with questioning eyes. “Let’s order.”

“Alright.” Kwon-Ho took a swig of his strawberry mojito. It was sweet and zesty with just the right amount of kick. Lito had excellent taste in drinks.

Ordering was never much of a hassle when he was out with Sun, and this time was no exception. They had shared a meal every time they concluded their not-date, and she had always insisted they paid for their own share. He thought he might ask if he could call her his girlfriend, but tonight, of all nights, he didn’t fancy a black eye. The guys at the station were starting to gossip, especially after he’d taken her with him to the gym two weeks ago to show her off — she’d beat all of his buddies at freestyle fighting like they were baby birch trees and she was a double-sided ax.

 _This is not a date_ was the first thing she’d said to him when he’d met her at King Sejong’s statue in Yeouido Park. It was also the first (and last) time he’d thought to approach the subject. After the BPO situation, he didn’t have another death wish.

“How was work?” she asked. He noticed she was wearing eyeliner and a hint of silvery eyeshadow, and her lips were painted a dark red, deeper than her usual shade. Maybe it was the holiday spirit getting to her; she’d usually go for neutral colors.

“We arrested three shoplifters in the span of one afternoon up at D-Cube City Mall. I think they were trying to do some last-minute holiday shopping.”

She gave the slightest hint of a smirk, the corners of her mouth ticking. “They have poor time management skills. They should have gone before the mall opened.”

“I don’t think any of them knew how to pick locks. They’re no Wolfgang.”

“That’s a shame.” Sun plucked out the little paper umbrella of her own mojito and took another sip. “Wolfgang would have been in and out before the cops could arrive.”

Kwon-Ho held up two fingers to the bartender, who set about making more cocktails for them. “Should I be concerned?”

She looked blankly ahead for a second before she shrugged. Wolfgang must have heard their conversation. “I don’t think Wolfgang has much motive to steal anymore,” she said finally. “Is that all you were up to today?”

“Yeah. Bit of a slow day. No murders on Christmas Eve this year.”

The waiter came around with their appetizers. Sun picked a piece of goguma mattang off the basket with her chopsticks and regarded the caramelized sweet potatoes for a second in front of her, turning it as if to examine if it had a tracking device.

“That’s unfortunate,” she mumbled before finally eating.

“Unfortunate?” He chuckled, picking a spring roll off the plate, carefully avoiding the side salad. They put in a considerable effort trying to make the plating look fancy, and the rose made from petals of shaved radish looked too neat to disturb.

“Perhaps they’re biding their time.”

“How ominous.” He picked up another spring roll. “Let’s hope someone else takes their case. I’ve dealt with enough murders to last me a decade.”

And back and forth they quipped, speculating what the best time (at the unholy hour of five in the morning, when the night owls had gone to bed, and the early morning joggers weren't up and running yet) and place (inside a place like BPO) to commit a crime would be, to the amusement of their waiter who came around a while later to bring them their main course. This turned into a discussion on what other secrets about humanity the world could be hiding, which turned into a discussion on people with secrets.

“Everyone has a secret. No matter how big or small,” Sun insisted, a little more stubbornly than usual. Kwon-Ho found it delightful. “I had a meeting with a client a week ago. One of my new clients. American guy, middle-aged. I accompanied him to brunch. He interrupted three times to pick up his calls.”

He winced. “What could have been so urgent?”

She paused to think. “Maybe he was wearing a bug, and he had someone trying to give him advice on what to say to me. Every time he picked up, he’d look at me and look away when I caught him at it. Like I said, secrets.”

“I am a terrible influence,” he declared, thinking back to that time in November she’d come over to his place to binge _Stranger_. “I got you into police dramas.”

“Yes. I’m sure a real-life detective with a penchant for overdramatic police fiction has corrupted my mind.”

“Alright. You have a point.” He smirked at the sarcasm, delighted that she had fought back with more than a glare this time. Once in a while, she’d let that snarky side of her loose, usually under the assistance of alcohol. “You’re indestructible. Mind _and_ body.”

This was what most of their not-dates entailed, outside of their day-to-day conversation over text. They’d come around to each other’s apartments a few times and questioned each other’s life choices, and they’d ask each other about their day and make funny asides as the other person gave an anecdote. Usually, by the middle of the conversation, he’d have said something mildly irritating, and she’d have retaliated with a glare or the occasional punch on the shoulder. Sometimes they’d meet up in the park for a quick spar in the morning, spars he had never managed to win thus far.

So this meeting was like any other, but on holiday, everything felt significantly more amusing. By the time they finished their meal and their fourth round of mojitos, Lito dropped by. Sun relayed what her Cluster-mate had suggested: that they try two truths and a lie, Felix and Dani’s special drinking game.

“Alright. Number one,” Kwon-Ho started, laying the shot glass filled with tequila in front of him. “I’m horribly, _horribly_ allergic to cats.”

“Huh.” She leaned forward as if seeing the details of his face could help determine whether he was lying. Or maybe it was Lito scrutinizing Kwon-Ho in Sun’s place. “If this is true, I am glad Jinju is not a cat.”

He chuckled but didn’t make another comment. “Two. One of the shoplifters I arrested today? He was trying to steal a little teddy bear” – he raised a hand above the tabletop to the height of the mojito glass – “this big. It had a little deerstalker hat, like Sherlock's.”

“Ironic.”

“On so many levels,” he agreed.

“And three. You might not like this one,” he warned. She waved it off, telling him to go on, “but my mom’s been asking when I would bring you home to meet her.”

“You told her about me?”

She didn’t look angry. Thankfully. But her brows were furrowed like she was trying to work out how exactly he could go about explaining the situation.

“Maybe,” he said. “I could’ve been lying.”

“That last one’s a lie,” she declared.

She paused immediately as she said it, and rolled her eyes a second later. Maybe Lito was trying to tell her she chose wrong. It really wasn’t fair that Sun had a human lie detector at her disposal. Not that Kwon-Ho would ever complain — it was fun to try and determine when Sun was not Sun. He was getting better at it.

“Are you sure?”

“Am I wrong?”

Kwon-Ho chuckled. “I’m afraid so.”

Sun downed the shot before he had a chance to tell her as much, swallowing abruptly before crossing over to the bar for a refill.

“So you _have_ told your mother about me?” she asked, sliding back into her seat.

“Don’t you want to know which one’s the actual lie?”

“Is it the Sherlock bear one?”

He nodded. “That shoplifter tried to steal a _giant_ bear. Not a tiny one. It was around half my height. But it did have a little deerstalker hat.”

Sun tutted her tongue. “I don’t understand how he thought he could get away with it.”

“D-Cube was crowded. He thought he could blend in since that shop had no security alarms around the exit.” Kwon-Ho shrugged. “Contrary to popular belief, the police force is usually good with catching criminals.”

“Because most criminals are quite stupid.”

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“So you told your mother about me?” she asked, persistent as ever.

“She saw the chocolate gift basket when she visited me at the hospital. I told her I assumed it was you who sent it.”

“You never told her the truth after?”

“I couldn’t without telling her the whole truth.”

“That can wait,” Sun agreed. “But if your mother expects me to be a romantic, she will find herself disappointed.”

He laughed. “My mother expects everyone to be a romantic. But I think she’ll like you.”

“Why?”

“I told her about our spars. And all those times we hung out. She told me she appreciates a strong woman who can put me in my place.”

Sun looked like she didn’t believe him. “Even the part about losing?”

“Especially the part about losing. Sometimes she thinks I’m invincible,” Kwon-Ho explained. “And then I went and got myself shot. So now she questions my common sense.”

Her eyes gleamed with something akin to mirth, an emotion she tried very hard to suppress. “Maybe your mother and I have something in common after all.”

By the third round of their game, it was clear Sun was getting tipsy. She had declared her two statements, and after she told the third (that she bought Jinju off of a random guy in a park), she outright stated, with a shake of her head, “Thissss is a terrible lie.”

“Alright. I think you’ve had enough.” He swiped the glass from her.

She grumbled something in protest, but it came out in Spanish. This only confirmed his suspicions. Sun had only slipped into a foreign language once before, and that time she was in the London hospital, stirring as she slept off the painkillers.

“I didn’t get Jinju from a shady street dealer,” she muttered.

He flagged down their waiter for the check and gave him his card. For once, she didn’t insist on paying her share.

“Then where did you get her?”

She shook her head and mumbled “later”. After he got his card back, he helped her put on her jacket and walked her out of the restaurant where a few taxis were waiting, ready to pick up people who had celebrated Christmas Eve a little too hard.

On their way to her apartment, she laid her head on his shoulder. He thought she was going to fall asleep until she said, slightly slurring, “I got Jinju from a pound.”

“You adopted her?”

“Mhmm. I did.” She closed her eyes. “The people at the pound told me – they told me she was the runt of her litter. Her owners didn’t want her. So they left her – left her out on the street. On the street. To die.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It is. Jinju’s the sweetest thing. The sweetest. I don’t know… I don’t know how anyone could have – could have abandoned her. I knew when” – she yawned – “when I saw her at the pound that she’s – mm, she’s perfect. Perfect. For me.”

They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride, but Sun snuggled a little closer. Kwon-Ho’s head was starting to feel a little foggy, too. He put his arm around her shoulder, and he could have sworn she smiled. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was, he didn’t think, but it was definitely more alcohol than he was used to.

Sun was wobbling as she tried to guide him over to her apartment building, insisting that Kwon-Ho came inside (“because it’s – it’s so cold”) when he readied himself to say goodnight on the front steps. They stumbled into the elevator, and he pressed the button to the top floor. When he turned back, he saw Sun leaning against the corner watching him.

“Why are you so good to me?” she whispered.

He pushed a few strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Most” – she yawned again – “most people are scared of me. ’M scary.”

“Well, _Miss Bak_ ,” he quipped, and she chuckled at the old name, “that’s because they don’t know you. You’re not always so scary.”

The elevator door opened. He held her hand and guided her out. She followed obediently, one foot after the other, her high heels clicking unevenly against the ground as she tried to find her balance.

“Aren’t I, _Detective_?” She stopped in front of her door and leaned against it, studying him with half-lidded eyes, fighting sleep.

“I don’t think so.” He took the key she passed him and opened the door, helping her inside. “Especially when you’re drunk.”

She shut the door behind him and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “’M not _drunk_.”

“Okay. Okay,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. Jinju looked up from where she was curled up over a giant cushion in the living room, perking her ears at the sound. She locked eyes with the detective for a second before going back to sleep.

“Okay,” she repeated, her hand still clutching his collar. She tugged him closer, their noses nearly touching. When she wore heels, they were about the same height. He could smell the faint sweetness of her perfume mixed with hints of alcohol.

Moonlight shone through the drop-down window of her living room, encasing the room — and Sun — in an ethereal sort of glow. If he’d said this out loud and she was sober, he was sure she would have rolled her eyes. The clock on the wall said it was five minutes to midnight. Had they really been out that long?

She stumbled forward. He reached out in time, holding her by the waist with one strong arm. “Your hair’s messssy,” she pointed out, still examining him.

He touched his hair with one hand — he really did need a haircut — and realized she was right. The bits at the top were sticking out like he’d tried and failed to make them stand upright with gel. He must have tousled it accidentally when he was in the taxi, when he was trying to keep her head from falling off his shoulder, the back of his head rubbing against the cheap leather seats. “Oh. Oops.”

“I like it like this. It makes you – it makes you look less scary. Less scary.”

If it weren’t so dark in this living room, he’d have been visibly blushing. “Good. I think?”

“Mm. Good,” she agreed, the crinkled corners of her eyes revealing another smile.

It occurred to Kwon-Ho that he had never seen Sun like this. She was telling him things she would probably never have said if she were completely sober, confessing her feelings with words rather than fists. Maybe tomorrow she’d forget it all. But he doubted _he_ would.

He reached out a hand to caress her cheek, her skin pleasantly cool against his touch. The words slipped out before he could help it. “You’re beautiful.”

For a moment, he wondered if she would punch him, after all. But all she did was humph. “You sound – you sound like a – like a boyfriend. It’s wh-what a boyfriend says.”

“And… do you mind that?” he asked.

Maybe this was a discussion better suited for later. Not in the dead of night on Christmas Eve, when they’d both had a little too much to drink. But Kwon-Ho didn’t quite have the strength to take it back.

To his relief, she shook her head.

Sometimes, he wondered if Sun had refrained from kissing him all those times to mess with him. Maybe she wanted to see when he’d finally gather up the courage to make a move. She was a serious person, but far from humorless. Every so often he’d detect a hint of mischief in her eyes, only a hint before she’d mask it with a hard glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he said slowly, running his thumb across her cheek, “I would very much like to kiss you right now.”

Most people closed their eyes in anticipation of a kiss. But not Sun. Her eyes were wide open, staring back at him, curious, not apprehensive. “So kiss me.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Kiss me_ ,” she insisted, her hand tugging his collar again.

He couldn’t tell who kissed the other first, and who kissed back. In his memory, it seemed like a kiss she pulled him into rather than one he’d initiated. He didn’t mind, either way. He ran his hand through her hair as they kissed, his other arm still wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.

At some point, he’d picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, still kissing. It was a surprise they didn’t run into a wall. She grumbled in protest when he set her down on the bed, but fell back and kicked off her heels, snuggling beneath the sheets.

“Good night, Sun,” he said, smiling at the sight of her burrowed under her comforter with nothing more than the top of her head peeking out.

“Stay.” Sun shifted until she was on one side of the bed.

“I should let you sleep in peace.”

Abruptly, she pulled the comforter off her head and threw him a glare across the room, one that had him rooted to the spot. “ _Stay_ ,” she ordered.

“If you insist.”

Kwon-Ho made sure to keep to his side of the bed. The comforter felt warmer than the one he had at home. Or maybe it was because he was sharing it with Sun. Regardless, it was all too easy to give in to sleep.

He didn’t know when they’d shifted to face each other in the night, but the next morning, he woke to the sight of Sun watching him open his eyes, smiling a secretive sort of smile. The taste of strawberries lingered on his tongue. Faintly, he remembered there was lipstick smudged over his mouth.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, smiling back.

“Merry Christmas.” She leaned in closer. “Kiss me again.”

*

Will’s dad was buried in the cemetery next to his mom, his tombstone painfully new and polished in contrast to hers. The last time Will had visited this cemetery was on his mom’s birthday, only a few days before he was reborn. He had brought a wreath of white roses to lay in front of the black stone. If she had lived long enough for him to remember her, he might have known what flowers she liked. The roses were only an approximation.

Will and Riley stood in front of the graves on Christmas Eve. The night was closing in as the snow fell, the last traces of dusk vanishing into the dark blue of the sky, revealing the moon.

“We never got a chance to say goodbye,” Will said to them both.

Silence. Riley’s hand was warm, anchoring him to the spot.

“I missed you both. Mom, I never got the chance to know you, but I miss you anyway. I grew up missing you because dad missed you. He talked about you a lot — probably wanted something for me to remember you by. All the things I knew about you, I knew through other people’s memories.

“And dad? I’m sorry I left you without telling the truth. I’m sorry I –”

He stopped there, his voice breaking. Riley’s hand tightened around his. He looked at her, letting his tears fall. His breath was slow, shaky at first, but steadier as he looked at the way it fogged in the air, the white blending in with the snow.

“I’m sorry I left you in the dark,” he started again, quieter than before. “I’m sorry I left you alone on Thanksgiving and – and Christmas Eve. I’m not gonna make the same mistake this year. I know… I know it’s too late, but I’m here now.”

Riley gave him a sad smile before she placed two holly garlands over the tombstones, inclining her head to announce her presence.

“This is Riley.” Will put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. “She’s the reason I’m here now. She’s the reason I pulled through. And I wished I could have brought her home, dad. I wish you could have met her, _really_ met her, talked to her. I know you’d like her if you did. But I’m glad – I’m glad you saw her.”

_I’m glad you saw me through her, if only for a moment._

“I only know about you through memories, too,” Riley said, the cadence of her voice quivering against the wind. “Will thinks about you a lot. I wish I could have met you and made memories of my own, but I am grateful for the memories I have.”

Will pulled out the picnic blanket from the basket that lay next to his feet, spreading it over the ground in front of the gravestones before he sat. Riley joined him a moment later, tightening the drawstrings around her hood to shield her head from the wind. Will picked up the food they’d packed — turkey sandwiches with gravy and cranberry sauce — and passed one to her.

“I know this isn’t what you expected when you asked me to come home, dad. But I’m home now. I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve again.”

They ate in silence, tasting snow as well as the bread that had gone stale and the turkey that had gone cold, the runny sauce dripping down their gloves. Will imagined them all sitting at the dinner table somewhere warmer with string lights across the room that he helped put up. He imagined the smell of gingerbread cookies wafting through the air, Christmas songs playing in the background on his dad’s old radio…

“I thought you two might like some company.”

Will turned and saw Gunnar standing behind them, ukulele in one hand, a bag packed with gingerbread cookies and eggnog in the other. Riley and Will moved apart to leave space between them. Gunnar sat, examining the gravestones as Will passed him a sandwich.

Gunnar had come to Chicago with them to spend Christmas together, all three of them staying at the new apartment Will and Riley had settled into only weeks ago.

All the officers at the station had come to help him move in, a gesture Will would have appreciated if they didn’t all jump at the chance to interrogate him about his so-called secret mission. Officer Boyd had declared it was ridiculous they didn’t even let Will come back for his dad’s funeral. Diego had played along and cursed the system, but he’d patted Will on the shoulder when the others weren’t looking and whispered his condolences.

“Aren’t you going to be late for the concert?” Riley asked.

Gunnar had been invited to play with the orchestra in a Christmas Eve concert at the Chicago Symphony Center. They would have dinner later than most families after the show finished and stay up past midnight, a little tradition Riley had growing up as her papa had often found himself playing in Christmas concerts until late.

“I got another hour. I thought I could stop by here, and we could all go together.”

“Thank you,” Will said.

Gunnar played a few notes on his ukulele as he munched on a gingerbread cookie, plucking the strings gently so he did not disturb the people at rest all around the graveyard. His eyes settled on the tombstones again, lingering over the dates of birth and death. “It’s an honor to meet you both,” he told them. “Will has told me a lot about you.”

Will imagined what it would like for Gunnar to meet his dad if he were still here. He and Riley, like their dads, grew up in different worlds. Still, he liked to think they’d get along.

Riley caught his eyes and nodded. _They would_.

After they finished their food in silence, Gunnar picked up his ukulele again, striking a few melancholic chords in bittersweet harmony, playing the introduction to _I’ll be home for Christmas_. It was a carol about World War II soldiers who longed to go home after the war. It was a song his father always played on Christmas Eve on an old cassette tape because it was one of his mom’s favorites. Will used to close his eyes and imagine it was his mother singing this song, telling them to wait for her to come home.

_I’ll be home for Christmas_

_You can plan on me_

_Please have snow and mistletoe_

_And presents on the tree_

When Gunnar sang, his gravelly voice spoke of longing, the kind of longing Will felt as he looked at his parents’ graves. Will caught a glimpse of tears lingering in Riley’s eyes. They reached for each other again, intertwining their fingers in silent understanding.

_Christmas Eve will find me_

_Where the lovelight gleams_

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_If only in my dreams_

Will wasn’t the only one wishing for visitors beyond the grave. And while his heart still ached in the absence of those he could no longer see, the fact that he and Riley shared the same wish made the pain a little easier to bear.

*

Hernando found the flip-flop.

The three of them and María had stopped by Lito’s old place on their way to his mamá’s house for a Christmas Eve dinner. Lito didn’t even know why they’d stopped, only that when the building came into view, Hernando pulled over and stared at it through the car window, frowning in thought.

“We should go for a walk,” Dani had suggested.

They walked around the building in silence. Lito bridal-carried María out of the car, much to her annoyance. He told María about all those times he and Hernando would sit on the balcony and talk and look over the city, contemplating all the bad things they wanted to do to each other, sometimes initiating the acts in question before they even got back inside.

María rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Such a drama queen.”

Dani and Hernando walked in front of them hand-in-hand, gazing at the building in nostalgia. It may have been a home that they were evicted from, but it was still home, the first place the three of them had lived together. At one point Hernando stopped to examine a bush that sat beside the sidewalk, muttering something about the ephemerality of the past as he took the dying leaves in hand.

That was when Hernando noticed the flip-flop, now an easily overlooked piece of plastic wedged behind the bush, the dust covering the navy color in its entirety. With gloved hands, he pinched the flip-flop at the edge and pulled it out, holding it in front of Lito. “Hmm. I do recall getting a voicemail about this. I believe you accidentally dropped it from up there.” He pointed at the top of the building where their balcony once was.

Lito broke into a grin. “You are incredible, Hernando. Incredible. Now throw it away.”

“You don’t want it as a keepsake?” Hernando waved the flip-flop around teasingly.

“It’s nasty. “ Lito cringed. “Please. Throw it away.”

The flip-flop’s much cleaner twin had gotten lost when they moved into their new place anyway. It was better to leave this little memento of their past behind them if the other piece had already gone. Hernando seemed to agree, as he tossed it in the nearest bin and dusted his gloved before turning back.

They drove away from the place for the last time, feeling hopeful. The unexpected interlude had given them some peace, and with that, Lito felt like he could finally let this part of his life go for good. Like the other shoe had dropped.

When they stopped in front of his mamá’s house, facing the front porch decked with colorful string lights all over, María refused to be bridal-carried out in the same way. “If you do that again, Lito,” she warned, “you will lose an arm.”

Lito knew María had been trying to walk again with professional help, but she hadn’t been able to move by herself for more than a minute at a time. It was unlikely that she could be completely free of the wheelchair, but her progress had been better than the doctors anticipated, and she was still improving.

Right now, though, Lito worried she would slip on ice.

María stood, and, with her hand on Lito’s arm, shuffled to the front porch, grunting as she pulled herself up the three little steps. They set her wheelchair in front of the doormat. She sat down as Lito rang the doorbell.

“ _Ay_! You’re here! Come in, come in” – Lito’s mamá pulled open the door and ushered them inside, muttering something about the particularly harsh winter this year – “oh, you must be starving. Food is ready.”

“It smells amazing,” Hernando said, beaming. He hauled their bags into the rooms they would be staying in until New Year’s Eve.

“ _So_ amazing,” Dani agreed, moving to the Christmas tree to set down their presents.

“And María!” Lito’s mamá continued to gush. She lowered herself and gave María a hug. “ _Cariño_ , I haven’t seen you for too long. Far too long.”

“It’s been _years_ , Estella,” María agreed, using the name his mamá had always insisted on. _Señora Rodríguez_ was too formal of a title, and María was like a daughter to her.

Lito had told his mamá about the Sensate situation as best he could over the phone. Everything, although she had said the research papers Nomi had sent her didn’t make much sense. Still, she knew enough to understand what Lito and his partners and María had been through. But Christmas was a day of celebration, and all of them had silently agreed the full explanation could wait.

Andy joined them as they got around to the main course — his flight was later than theirs, and he had insisted they start without him. They spent the rest of the meal catching up on each other’s lives, pestering María with questions on how she ended up meeting an American hacker on what was supposed to be a short trip and falling in love.

“She saw me at a café,” Andy told them, his cheeks flushed pink from all the wine, “and everywhere else was full, so she sat down at my table, and I said good morning.”

María groaned dramatically at what must have been their fourth retelling this month, insisting that Lito tell more stories of _Iberian Dreams_ afterwards to make up for it. Lito, Hernando, and Dani looked at Andy, anticipating the next part of the recount as Lito’s mamá leaned forward, taking the story in for the first time.

“I thought she’d say ‘good morning’ back, you know, and she’d leave it at that. But _no_.” Andy gestured wildly as he spoke, his animated voice complementing the big smile on his face. “She looked at me, and – okay, I had a water witch on my table along with my laptop — stupid, I know, I should’ve hidden it better — and I had this Bluetooth earpiece over my ear. Anyway, she looked at me. But she didn’t say anything, so I thought she’d go back to her coffee, but she watched me for a full minute — longest minute of my life, I swear to God — and she whispered, ‘Are you a hacker?’”

“And what did you say?” his mamá asked.

“I said, ‘Yes. Yes I am.’”

Lito laughed. “Perfect answer.”

“I didn’t believe him, of course,” María told them.

“No, of course not.” Hernando chuckled. “You’re a good spy even before you were even a spy. You needed to see evidence.”

“So I said,” Andy continued, “‘What’s it gonna take for you to believe me?’ And María asked if I could show her my ‘secret lair’.”

“You asked him to bring you home?” Dani played along, gasping.

“I was _joking_ ,” María insisted. “But he thought I was serious, and he actually agreed to show me his place. I mean, the first time, I didn’t go in. I stood outside his door, but I saw the whole room. He had four computers. _Four_.”

“Nomi has more than that,” Lito pointed out.

“And he had all these… these wires” – María looked at Andy – “I don’t know what you call them. But yes. The wires and weird signal-receiver things, and these blinking lights. Some kind of alert system.”

Andy chuckled. “The best spy gears.”

“Point is, he opened his door, and I knew he was probably telling the truth.” María turned to Estella. “And I said, okay, thanks for showing me all this, and I left. And the next day I went back to the café, and he was there again.”

“It’s fate,” his mamá said. Hernando nodded emphatically, earning another eye roll.

“It’s _stalking_. He was waiting there for me to show up again.”

“Aww. And you showed up.” Dani formed a little heart shape with her hands.

María gave her husband a cheeky grin. “He’d be lost if I didn’t.”

They continued sharing stories while they curled up in front of the TV to watch _Home Alone_ , the one movie Lito and María used to insist on watching every Christmas. Though all of them had seen the movie, they laughed harder than they had for a very long time, drunk on eggnog with too much rum. By the end of the evening, Dani declared this was the best Christmas ever — last year was terrific, but this year was something else.

María sang Christmas carols after the movie ended, carols in the same familiar tune with less-than-decent renditions of the original lyrics. It was another thing she and Lito used to do as kids when both their families would celebrate together, annoying the adults for the mere sake of it. A bemused Hernando joined in, followed by Dani, who giggled and reminded Lito of the dreadful version of _Porque Yo Te Amo_ Felix had sent to her as a birthday gift, a video she saved and re-played whenever she needed a laugh.

Soon Lito’s Cluster joined in from various parts of the world, humming along, or, in Capheus’ case, belting out the re-written carols from the literal rooftop of Zakia’s apartment building. But none of them visited. They stayed in Lito’s head, cherishing this moment in secret as they carried on celebrating in their own lives, in their own ways.

It was silly and pointless, and ridiculously over-the-top. It was perfect.

*

The crowd was larger than it had been the last time Capheus stood on stage. People from all over Nairobi came to hear his speech, the plastic chairs overlapping on the same lawn that had been the ground for a Bolger shooting months ago. It was strange for Capheus to be here, to be one of the only ones who knew the truth of the attack.

Capheus’ supporters were no stranger to violence between the tribes. That violence, he had hoped to put an end to. Mandiba had called his beliefs idealistic, but avoidance of change was not compatible in a world that was ever-evolving. Though the other violence, the unknown violence put forth by BPO that threatened the world, was a much more difficult challenge, and not one Capheus alone had the power to do anything about.

“I am sure, by now, that you have all heard rumors about my involvement with the downfall of BPO — the Biological Preservation Organization, whose unethical experiments on the human brain had recently been exposed. There are stories about me marching into the Headquarters to take down all the bad people within.”

The crowd dispersed into murmurs. His mother shifted uneasily in her seat, clasping her hands tight. Jela was visibly sweating, though he waved a fist and mouthed _you got this_. Zakia gave him an encouraging smile, and Kiira, who had come back to visit on winter break to help with his campaign, met his eyes and sent him a mental image of Jean Claude in battle. Amondi gave him a thumbs-up, next to her father, who looked on in concern.

They had all been there when Capheus wrote the speech, though his mother and Mr. Kabaka worried about the repercussions while the others remained hopeful. Capheus didn’t know where his BPO rumors had come from. Perhaps someone had seen him confront the BPO vans that day en route to rescuing the Sensates who’d fallen prey to the Reciphorum. And while Mandiba’s side may have broadcasted outright lies about Capheus before, this time the rumors were too close to the truth.

The Sensates in the Archipelago had all decided to wait. They had trusted the Veracity hackers to feed the right amount of truth to the press, to let the truth about _Homo sensorium_ reveal itself over time. But outright denial of his involvement would have been far from strategic — people might have suspected he was hiding things.

“Are the rumors true? You might ask,” Capheus continued, raising his voice a little. The whisper stopped, replaced by a hushed, anticipating silence.

“Since the beginning of my campaign, you have gotten to know me through stories. Stories about my battle against Superpower. Stories about the Van Damn. Stories about the day I stopped the escalation of a protest over water. These were things about me people had witnessed, stories told by word of mouth or by the media.

“Mandiba’s side told stories about me, too. I have heard those stories, and I must say, they are a lot less heroic. A lot more morally questionable.”

He paused there, hoping his intentional humor was enough to stir a reaction. Many people chuckled, as anticipated. His mother visibly relaxed, and Mr. Kabaka nodded slowly.

Zakia had insisted Capheus was popular because he was personable. It was the way people related to his stories that made them vouch for him. And Kiira had pointed out most politicians wanted people’s faith. They wanted people to believe they could fix things for the better, that they were the better candidate because they could do what others could not.

Capheus’ actions had made an impression, and it had inspired others to find their own courage and do the same. This was a campaign for the people, not just for him.

“I am not here to tell you whether the stories about me are real. The stories about me are reflections of my actions, told and retold by witnesses. They are embellished and modified based on people’s perceptions of me to portray me in a certain light. The stories are stories of a hero or a villain instead of a man.

“The last time I spoke to you, I told you a story, too. A story from me, about me. What I had hoped to show you, from the stories of my past, was that I am not a savior who had been chosen to save Kibera. I am part of Kibera. I came from the same world as you. And I had spent my life waiting for the change that never came. I did the things I did because I am tired of waiting. I want to help.”

People cheered. Capheus smiled, and his eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on four familiar faces — two men and two women, the Sensates who had been at his rally last time. They had come to see him again, this time without Blockers.

“If I am selected to represent Kibera, I would like to use the privilege I will have to bring about changes I wish I could have seen long ago. I have said before that love is a bridge, and not a wall if we let it be. And I have the same beliefs about authority. The division between those in power and those who are not, between politicians who made false promises and people who relied on them for help? That division is the reason we are here today, facing the same problems I had faced as a child.

“I do not want things to go back to the way they were. I am a voice for all of us. I want to help this neighborhood alongside all of you because we have we have something in common to lose. Something in common to strive for. And the changes we bring, the better future we build, will not be another one of _my_ stories. It will be ours.”

Jela raised his fist and whooped. The Sensates in the crowd and a couple others joined in along with his family and friends and Cluster. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and soon, all of the audience was caught in the uproar.

“I speak to you in the hopes that this election, whatever the outcome may be, will not be the end of our story, but a new beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Here's my usual reminder to fight for more seasons of Sense8.**
> 
> The special's great, but NOT ENOUGH! You can sign the petition [here](https://www.change.org/p/to-netflix-approve-more-episodes-of-sense8-givesense8season3), or contact Netflix customer support (you don't need to log in to do that, just scroll to the bottom of the page and you'll see the link!), or put "Sense8 Season 3" in the title requests (you also don't need an account for that), or comment about Sense8 on all their social media posts.
> 
> Or, hell, send them a postcard. Or a single flip-flop!


	40. Some endings become beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a wedding, and new stories begin.
> 
> “That day, I learned life and death are always so mixed up together, in the same way some beginnings are endings and some endings become beginnings.”  
> — From S1E9, “Death Doesn’t Let You Say Goodbye”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely tumblr daughter @greenmountaingirl (you can find her under the same name here as well — check out her fics!) has kindly agreed to make me a playlist for this chapter and give me feedback on my first draft. 
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/25t8lkaqwkxwgs4kcrmq44g2z/playlist/72pSSGnARA0lWbakE0NfOq?si=ftFXW6GkQSaKyv7I42JNFA) it is. It’s a phenomenal playlist with songs from all over the world, and the music saved my ass so many times as I was writing. I mentioned most of the song titles by name in this chapter, so you can listen along if you wish. It’s a musical chapter, of sorts. Enjoy!

******New Year’s Eve**

Nomi could hear the orchestra playing from inside the ceremony hall as she and Teagan approached the door.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm. After her Cluster had left them in the dressing room to talk alone, Nomi had expressed all the little things she worried about to her sister. Teagan had assured her she’d be there to make sure Nomi didn’t trip over her heels or catch her dress on the leg of someone’s chair. And if worse came to worse, and a surge of panic took over, she would make sure Nomi stayed put.

Teagan’s presence was calming, though her grip on Nomi’s arm was a little tight, anchoring her to the ground with the force of her pull. There was no way Nomi could break away from _that_. She had kept her hold on Nomi for the last ten minutes while they stood outside the door — Nomi had insisted they made their way over early in case they were held up in the middle of the trip somehow.

“You ready?” Teagan whispered, running a comforting hand down Nomi’s back.

Teagan, her bridesmaid, was the one walking her down the aisle, a wedding tradition Nomi and Neets had decided to tweak.

“Fuck,” was all Nomi muttered in return. Her voice shook, and her lungs burned as if she was underwater, deprived of oxygen, trying to make sense of her own words.

Her Cluster appeared behind her in an instant. _We’ll be with you this whole time._

It was a short walk from this door to the altar. Neets would be walking down the aisle from the door on the other side of the hall, their paths lined by embroidered purple carpets that joined in the middle. The audience would see both of them approaching the Officiant at once. So much could go wrong in so few steps.

The music drew to its first climax. It was the brides' cue to go.

“Alright. Here we go, deep breaths, Nomi,” Teagan prompted, pushing the door open without a second warning.

Immediately, the entire audience turned to watch Nomi. Nomi felt like she was shaking. She probably was. Visibly so.

The audience watched her because Amanita’s door was still closed.

 _Shit_ , Amanita thought, running down the hall in tip-toes from her dressing room, the edges of her stilettos pushing against the ground precariously, threatening to twist her ankle and trip her over. Shit, shit, shit. She had heard the orchestra from all the way in front of her dresser, where she had been adding in a final dab of lipstick. Was it already time?

“Neets,” Lola, her oldest friend and bridesmaid, hissed as she ran after her, holding her own pair of black heels in her hands. “Neets, slow down! You’re gonna run into the wall!”

“Oh my God, that’s the cue, I’m late –”

“ _Neets_.” Lola stopped in front of a door and hopped on one leg, trying to put on her shoe, while Amanita ran past her. “Neets, we’re here. This is the door.”

Out of all the things Nomi believed could go wrong, she hadn’t considered the possibility that Neets wouldn’t show. Nomi reached out to Neets in her mind, afraid she would be met with silence. But no. She was _here_. She was close.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry –”

Nomi heard Amanita’s voice before the doors on her side opened. Amanita came running down the aisle on her side with Lola in tow. She ran halfway to the altar before she stopped and looked past the very amused Officiant, at Nomi –

Who hadn’t taken a single step forward.

The moment Nomi and Amanita locked eyes, they burst into laughter. They were soon joined by their bridesmaids and parents and the parents and friends of Nomi’s Cluster-mates and the Officiant and _everyone_. They picked up their pace and sprinted the rest of the way, nearly colliding at the altar.

In that moment, all of Nomi’s fears vanished.

Amanita stood there with her chin raised, watching Nomi with a smile that lit up the room. Her brocade gown was regal in a vibrant way, dark purple with off-shoulder sleeves and a long, ballgown skirt trailing behind her. Black and gold threads glided around the bodice of her dress in looping patterns, rising from the basque waistline. Her hair had been redone the week before. Her braids were now a simple mix of black and purple, twisted into a bun on top of her head, secured by a golden ribbon.

“We gather here today,” the Officiant spoke, his calming baritone voice reverberating through the hall from the microphone clipped to his tie, “in the presence of family and friends to join Nomi and Amanita in matrimony. We celebrate the coming together in love of these women. We remember that marriage is a time when growing love is made public, when two people share mutual promises. We join in our support of them as they offer themselves to each other. We celebrate their joy, their love, and their expectations.”

 _My wife,_ Nomi thought.

Noms looked like a princess born of magic. She was wearing a white gown with gossamer bell-sleeves, simple but elegant. Lilac and silver threads were weaved into the jacquard fabric of her dress from top to bottom, forming patterns that looked like flower petals. A string of pearls was braided into her hair, which cascaded down her right shoulder in gentle waves. She stepped up to take Amanita’s hands in hers, moving forward with a graceful sweep of her skirt. The way she tilted her head slightly when she smiled made Amanita feel all giddy inside, like she was back in City Lights, crushing on that cute, nerdy girl who came in looking for a copy of _Queen of the Flowers_.

 _My fair princess,_ Amanita thought back with a wink. This whole Sensate connection was taking some time to get used to, but hell if she wasn’t gonna try her best at mind-flirting on her wedding day.

“May you always need one another, not so much to fill the emptiness as to help each other know your fullness. May you want one another, but not out of lack. May you embrace one another, but not encircle one another. May you succeed in all meaningful ways with each other, and not fail in the little graces. Look for things to praise, often say ‘I love you’ and take no notice of small faults. May you have happiness, and may you find it in making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it in loving one another.

“Nomi and Amanita, the covenant which you are about to make with each other is meant to be a beautiful and sacred expression of your love for each other. As you pledge your vows to each other, and as you commit your lives to each other, we ask that you do so in all seriousness, and yet with a deep sense of joy, with deep conviction that you are committing yourselves to a dynamic, growing relationship of trust, mutual support, and caring love.”

“Amanita,” Nomi started her vow, willing her voice to stop shaking. “Before I met you, I was self-sufficient but lonely. I had closed myself off, thinking it was better that way, me, alone with my thoughts, safe. Safe from the vulnerabilities of opening my heart, guarded by the ghosts of my past. Before I met you, I had trouble believing in trust, though I knew I wanted something more.

“I didn’t know what that meant until I found you — until I found love, and I found meaning in what it was that I wanted. Something more means taking my hand and pulling me out, and marching alongside me when I felt like hiding. It means standing up to me when no one else had, and no one else would. It means believing me when I told you the craziest things, not because you could see what I see, but because you trusted me. Because we’d promised to be honest with each other from day one. You are all of this and more, and I vow to keep this promise of truth to you because I trust you to do the same.”

 _Thank you,_ Nomi thought, feeling the tears prickle her eyes.

Amanita appeared in visiting form in front of her, pulling her into a hug. _I love you._

“Nomi,” Amanita began. Her voice was shaking, too. “The moment I saw you walk into City Lights was the moment my life turned upside down. Every day with you is an adventure. Being with you… it’s comforting, and it’s wild, it’s good morning kisses and –” she chuckled – “and jumping to your rescue whenever you find yourself in danger, _and_ eventually deciding to join in on the fun because why not.”

The audience, especially those who had been there on said adventure this summer, laughed.

“Being with you is like being on a roller coaster. It’s being okay with the car dropping downhill ‘cause you know it’s gonna pick itself back up. It’s holding hands with the person next to you, screaming through it all, and still being able to smile for the camera as things go to shit. It’s having faith that you can look back on it all without wanting to change a single thing, as long as you’ve been through it all together. Being with you means righting my life back up. And I vow to you that, whatever we might face, I won’t let you face it alone.”

In the second row, right behind Lito, Bug pulled out a handkerchief and began silently weeping. Lito was tearing up, too, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Bug reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out an extra handkerchief, which Lito accepted graciously. Hernando looked at Nomi and pointed at his insufferable partner with a roll of his eyes. Dani giggled and whispered something in Felix’s ear. Felix nodded.

 _I feel like we’re in a soap opera,_ Amanita thought.

_We’ve been in a soap opera since I was reborn._

Well, more like a detective film. But when they were fighting someone as dramatic as Whispers, the two tended to overlap anyway.

The Officiant turned to Nomi. “Do you, Nomi, take Amanita to be your wife?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Amanita, take Nomi to be your wife?”

“I do.”

“If any person here can show cause why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Felix raised his hand. The audience gasped — another thing one would expect to see in a soap opera _or_ a detective film — and Wolfgang turned from his seat in the front row, shooting daggers at his brother. If looks could kill.

“Your honor!” Felix shouted. “Let them kiss already!”

The Officiant sighed, but Nomi detected a hint of a smile on his lips. “Anyone else?”

The amused crowd shook their heads. From where Amanita was standing, she could tell Felix looked fucking pleased with himself. Dani snuggled a little closer to him. Good. It must’ve been some kind of dare.

“Now that you have declared your intentions, I invite you to share your vows with one another. Please, repeat after me, these words.

“I have chosen you alone from all the world to be my wedded wife.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

For better, for worse.

For richer, for poorer.

In sickness and in health.

To love and to cherish ‘til death do us part.”

They repeated the words while they held hands. They spoke them out loud and heard them echo in their shared mind, a vow they would never intend to break.

“May we please have the rings?” the Officiant continued.

Teagan and Lola presented the rings to the brides.

“These rings have no beginning and no end. They set forth the eternal nature of real love. They will represent the love and trust that Nomi and Amanita promise to each other from this day forward.”

After Nomi slipped the ring onto Amanita’s finger and she did the same, their hands stayed touched for a moment. They looked into each other’s eyes. _I promise._

“May this be the start of a happy new life that’s full of special moments to share.

May this be the first of your dreams come true, and of hope that will always be there.

May this be the start of a lifetime of trust and of caring that’s just now begun.

May today be a day that you’ll always remember. The day when your hearts become one.

“Inasmuch as you, Nomi, and you, Amanita, have thus consented in matrimony and have witnessed the same before family and friends, by virtue of the authority vested in me and the laws of this state, I now pronounce you married.”

The audience cheered.

The Officiant chuckled. “Now, please, seal your marriage with a kiss, before this over-eager gentleman in the second row can protest again.”

Wolfgang looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or murder Felix on the spot.

Amanita stood on tip-toes and leaned forward. Nomi wrapped her arms around Amanita’s waist so their bodies leaned against each other. Their lips met and crashed and parted and demanded in unbridled passion. The audience cheered on, but in the moment, they could hear nothing save for the endless stream of happy thoughts rushing through their minds. They could feel nothing except the kiss and the way their hearts quickened against their ribs, quickened against each other, as they drew closer.

The room was silent when they pulled away, warm-cheeked and short of breath.

“May these two find happiness in their matrimony. May they live faithfully together. May they ever remain compassionate. May their years be rich in the joys of life, and their days be long upon the earth.”

It was the end of the beginning.

Nomi and Amanita walked off the center aisle together for all to see, exiting from the back of the room. The moment the door swung shut, Amanita tackled Nomi against the wall for another kiss.

“My wife,” she said, in between pecks. “Ha! I can say that now! _My wife_! Whoo!”

Teagan and Lola, who had walked out after them, offered them congratulations and hugs before they left for their own dressing rooms, leaving them alone once more.

Amanita drew away from the endless kisses after who knew how long and grabbed Nomi’s hands. She pulled her into the room around the back where their evening dresses sat waiting for them. “Not even death can do us apart, Noms. Our love is immortal. Immortal!”

“We’re married,” Nomi said, following her wife into the room a blissful daze.

“Hell yeah, we are.” Amanita closed the door and handed Nomi her evening outfit, a mesh-veiled periwinkle dress with a dark purple sash around the waist. Neets had picked it for her, and Lito had approved, stating the color made her eyes pop. “Now, help me out of this fucking thing, Noms, I’m dying.”

Nomi moved over and undid the corset-style laces at the back of her wedding dress, her hands tantalizingly slow as she pulled at the ends to free Neets from the fabric prison. “Dying so soon?” she teased.

Amanita turned around to kiss her, the now-loose gown falling down to her stomach. Nomi ran a hand down her bare back and felt her tremor. “Mm. Noms. _Noms_.” Amanita turned her head so Nomi’s latest kiss landed on her cheek. “Noms, you’re killing me.”

“Will you stop with the death puns?” Nomi turned around. Amanita unzipped her gown, tickling Nomi’s back before she let go.

“Never.” Amanita picked up her silky indigo dress from the rack and held it in front of her body, peeking into the mirror before putting it on. It was one of Noms’ favorites when they’d shopped together — the smattering of lilac flowers rising from the hem were a playful touch. “I said our love is immortal. Not our physical forms.”

When the newlyweds made their ways to the ballroom for their first dance, Nomi and Amanita found the guests in quiet chatter, sampling the hors d’oeuvres. The food sat at a long table on one side of the room, stacked up by fancy gold and silver platters on top of the purple tablecloth. It was indeed a diverse selection: mini kati rolls sat around the base of a tower of gangjeong, bowlfuls of mandazi lined up beside plates of blueberry skyr mousse… Tall, round tables stood on the other side of the room along with high chairs, places for the guests to converse. At the corner of the room there was a bar, and Lito was chatting animatedly with the bartender, eyeing the wide variety of booze lined up on the shelves.

To Nomi’s relief, Amanita’s mom had already engaged her dad in a conversation, the champagne in her glass swishing as she gestured wildly with her hands. Neets’ dads walked over to formally introduce themselves to Nomi’s dad, shaking his hand one by one. Nomi smiled, thankful she could count on Neets’ family to make her dad feel included.

“I’m happy for you, Noms,” Amanita said.

Nomi looked past her shoulder. Her dad turned to watch her, and she gave him a nod. “It is pretty unexpected,” she agreed. “But I’m happy he’s trying.”

Amanita lead Nomi to the center of the room. Riley plugged her iPod into an outlet by the stereo, waiting for a cue to start. They gave her a nod.

_She says I smell like safety and home_

_I named both of her eyes “forever” and “please don’t go”_

_I could be a morning sunrise all the time, all the time yeah_

_This could be good, this could be good_

The newlyweds started the first dance, swaying to Mary Lambert’s _She Keeps Me Warm_ , their all-time favorite song about two women in love. Nomi danced with one hand on the small of Amanita’s back, imagining where the lace on her wedding gown was moments ago. The perks of being a Sensate was, she didn’t need to find the perfect words to flirt. Already, Neets was looking at her with a sly smile and a ticked eyebrow, squeezing Nomi’s other hand, which was intertwined with hers.

 _Not here,_ Amanita reminded her, though the wicked thoughts running through her head suggested she very much liked to grab her wife and take off.

Nomi reciprocated her coy expression. _I can’t wait._

Everyone was quiet as they watched them step and swing and spin in circles, drifting from point to point on the dance floor like they were drawing a star with their feet. On the second chorus, Amanita pulled herself close, catching Nomi by surprise. Amanita stood on her toes again so their foreheads could touch. They grinned as they twirled twice, _thrice_ , mindful of the Cluster cheering them on in their shared mind.

“That. Was amazing,” Nomi whispered, breathless, when the song drew to a close. Her head was still spinning, and not only because of the dance.

Amanita touched her on the cheek, wiping a stray tear from the corner of Nomi’s eye, her own eyes glistening with happy tears, too. “You’re amazing.”

“Champagne?” Nomi was already leading them to the bar.

“Hell yeah.”

Other guests began to move to the dance floor now that the first song was over. Nomi and Amanita watched from the bar as the guests swayed to the soft rhythm of _Power of Two_ by Indigo Girls. Shiro was dancing with Sanyam nearby, moving slowly as they continued talking, though Priya stayed behind to chat with Amanita’s dads. Gunnar and Estella stepped onto the dance floor as well, laughing as they chatted.

They had invited the parents and close friends of Nomi’s Cluster-mates to the wedding in the hopes that they could fill each other in on the situation. It was Amanita’s idea, but everyone was all for it. She’d understood how good it felt to have Sapien friends who were also in the know. ‘Till she’d uncovered her own sensacity, anyway. A hell of a perspective to take in, but it’d been fun once the migraine had gone.

_Chase all the ghosts from your head_

_I’m stronger than the monster beneath your bed_

_Smarter than the tricks played on your heart_

_We’ll look at them together then we’ll take them apart_

_Adding up the total of a love that’s true_

_Multiply life by the power of two_

“Oh my God, I love this song!” Amanita said.

“Reminds me of our first Pride.”

Amanita clinked her champagne glass with Nomi’s before taking a sip. It was a heartwarming song, and the lyrics said it all. When she thought about Pride these days, she would remember their kiss on the hill, surrounded by other Pride-goers enjoying the sun on that beautiful day — though she’d been lost in the kiss, hardly noticing anyone else.

“I knew I loved you then,” Nomi whispered, catching on to her thoughts.

“And you love me now.” Amanita gave her a cheeky grin. “Told you our love is immortal.”

The next song was _Three Little Birds_ by Bob Marley. Neets’ dads walked over to pick their daughter up for a dance. They faced each other in the center of the dance floor, stepping in and out of their little circle, bobbing their heads to the tune as they mouthed the lyrics and fell into an improvised choreography.

Nomi picked up two glasses of raspberry martinis from the bar and made her way to her dad. Grace caught Nomi’s eye from across the room and excused herself, leaving them to talk in private.

“Congratulations.” Her dad accepted the drink.

“I’m… I’m happy you came.”

“Me, too.” He paused for a second before he added, “Listen, I’m sorry. About everything.”

“Dad, you already said you were sorry. I chose this. I wanted you back in my life.”

A few months ago, hearing her dad’s apology would’ve shocked Nomi. Now she felt a little sad to hear it, though she knew Neets would’ve crossed her arms and reminded her, _well, yeah, he should be sorry_. But she felt bad anyway, like she was putting her dad on the spot. Guilt wasn’t exactly a feeling that could just go away — not in a few months, maybe not even in a few years — but she'd decided to let him back into her life, and he’d accepted.

Nomi could see a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he cleared his throat and sipped on his martini. “I wouldn’t have invited me.”

“Well, I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not you, dad.”

“You have.” He sighed. “I wish I’d listened.”

Nomi’s treacherous mind decided to remind her of that swim club incident, one that left more emotional scars than physical burns. That experience had given her one of those feelings she hadn’t been able to push away no matter how many years had passed, that tightness in her chest whenever she walked into a room, a closed space, full of people staring at her. By the way her dad avoided her eyes, his hand fidgeting around the martini glass, Nomi knew he was thinking the same.

“Are you… are you and mom okay?” she asked instead, forcing her thoughts elsewhere.

“I don’t know.” He looked back at her. “Don’t know if we’ll ever be, but I’m happy I came.”

It would take years, maybe a lifetime, to recover from everything in her past. But so far, Nomi’s dad seemed determined to try and make amends, and Nomi had decided to try and forgive. She set down her glass on a nearby table as the next song started — _Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel)_ , an older classic she was particularly fond of. Riley had probably done a little mind-digging when she was making the playlist.

The song came at a perfect time. Nomi and her dad could talk about their shaky past all night, and it was a conversation they needed to have someday. But not on her wedding day. Not on New Year’s Eve. Today was all about looking forward.

“Dad,” she said, holding out her hand, knowing he wouldn’t dare ask this unless she’d made it clear it was okay, “would you like to dance?”

The crowd parted to make way as Nomi lead her dad on the dance floor. They didn’t speak when they danced, but the silence was a comfortable one. His hand on her back was slight and unsure, but she closed her hand around him tighter, taking the lead. The crowd had all stopped to look at them. For once, the attention wasn’t frightening. Nomi’s cheeks burned with the intensity of the looks around them — she could’ve sworn she heard Bug and Lito cry again — but she smiled brighter.

Nomi smiled until the end, and her dad did, too.

*

When _99 Luftballons_ started playing on the stereo, Wolfgang had to take a moment to remind himself not to toss off his shirt like he was in a dingy club somewhere. His hand lingered on his tie, debating prying it off, but Kala pulled his arm away and led him to the dance floor with an exasperated shake of her head.

“My neck is itching,” he grumbled.

“The tie matches your eyes, _bhediya_. It’s the only bit of blue you have.”

Unlike Kala, who had come to the wedding in a teal sari with red and gold accents, the only bit of color Wolfgang had (reluctantly) agreed to was a turquoise pattern-less tie. Lito had given up trying to talk him into wearing a navy suit about a week ago, though judging by the looks he was shooting Wolfgang earlier this evening, he still held a grudge.

“Wolfie!” Felix sauntered over, all glowing in golden shoes, a dark gray suit, and a yellow tie with some kind of abstract art pattern. “This is our jam!”

Already, Capheus, Lito and Jela were dancing their ways over. The determined look in their eyes screamed _dance off_. Felix, thinking along the same lines, joined the trio and began to show off his moves in front of Kala, all taunting as he smirked. Wolfgang could tell Kala was plotting revenge. Eventually, every guy joined along, save for the parents. Wolfgang, eventually, found himself pulled into the dance by Detective Mun.

Kala and the fellow ladies stood on the other side of the room in a V-formation with Kala at the front, waiting for the next song to play so they could make their move. The whole Cluster had been there to help Riley compile the playlist. Kala knew what song was coming. The adults stepped off to make space for them. Sanyam shot Lito a look that said _you’re going down_ and whispered to Estella, who shook her head before mumbling something equally threatening in return.

Lito, who led the guys, took a provocative step forward and spun in front of Kala before fixing his gaze on her, his smile provoking and smug. He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it to an empty chair at the side of the room with a deft flick of his hand. The parents cheered. Sanyam _ooh_ -ed when Wolfgang and Felix’s song drew to an end.

 _Maahi Ve_ came on next. Perfect. Kala signaled for her side to start retaliating, to which Lito responded with a skeptical twitch of his brow. She stepped forward, standing so close to Lito their bodies were almost touching, then she began one of the practiced dance routines she had learned as a young girl, one she had perfected over the years and was now teaching to her fellow battle-ready ladies. Amanita’s dads whistled. Good. No one challenged Kala to a dance-off and got away with it. Especially not Lito.

Wolfgang channeled all of Lito’s dance knowledge and danced along, courtesy of their connection. Felix imitated his moves the best he could, flailing his arms wildly, stomping the ground like he was trying to put out a fire. Clearly, his brother was waiting for Wolfgang to make fun of his moves, but all Wolfgang had eyes for was his Kala.

She stepped in powerful strides with a taunting shake of her hips. Even her hands were never still, signing the story of a fiery dance battle on a New Year’s Eve wedding as her arms swayed with precision, following and guiding and complementing the movement of her body. _Fuck_. If this were what Wolfgang could see every time they had a dance-off, he’d let her defeat him every time.

By the middle of the song, the two sides had merged until they were one large dance crew, competing from within. Lito spun Kala around and pulled her back, using their shared knowledge of moves from all types of dance to engage her in a showdown. But they were laughing as they faced each other, laughing even harder when they turned around and grabbed another partner to dance with. The dance turned into a festival of chaos, a mishmash of practiced choreography and improvised back-and-forth face-offs.

When the song ended, no one could decide who the winner was — the parents cheered equally as loud when both sides took their bows.

Kala found Wolfgang standing at the edge of the dance floor. “That was hot,” he said.

“It was.” She tugged at the front of sari to try and let some air in, then fanned her face with her hands. “Do you wanna dance some more?”

“You’re not tired?”

“No.” She smirked. “Are you?”

“Is that a challenge?”

But the next song that came on wasn’t a dance-off song. It was _I Melt With You_ , a song Wolfgang had chosen. They got two glasses of lemonade, deciding to hold off on the alcohol until later, and sat side by side on the high stools by the table to watch Amanita dance with her mom and Nomi dance with Teagan — most of the crowd had left the dance floor in search for more food.

“Why this song?” Kala asked.

Wolfgang showed her a memory. It was a sunny morning when his dad had been out. His mom had turned on the radio and was humming to herself, twirling and sweeping the floor with the broom, pretending it was her dance partner. The windows were wide open, letting the sunlight in and the stench of booze out. This was only a few months before she’d died, but Wolfgang didn’t know it would be one of the last memories he had with her. He was watching her, wondering how rare it was to see her happy.

His mother had noticed him watching and smiled. She laid the broom against a wall, walked over to the couch, and held out her hand. _May I have this dance?_

“Memory from a happier time,” he said simply.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

He knew why Kala always smelled like jasmine and marigold even outside her favorite temple. It was her special perfume, purchased from a generic brand and chemically altered into a scent that was distinctly her. “Don’t be.” He buried his nose in the soft curls of her hair, allowing the scent to intoxicate him. “No use dwelling on the past.”

Kala nodded. She wished she could help him feel safe enough to properly grieve for all the things in his past. It would be one of her resolutions. She didn’t usually make New Year’s resolutions — she believed when people resolved to change something, they should, no matter what time of year it was. But this particular celebration seemed like the start of a new chapter in their lives, so it was fitting.

They sat in peaceful silence until this song had ended and the next one began. This one, Kala wasn’t familiar with. It was another one of Wolfgang’s selections, the only one he’d kept secret from her. He said it was to be a surprise.

Wolfgang pulled himself up before offering her his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Kala took his hand and let him lead her back on the dance floor. He traced circles on her hand as a dimpled smile snuck up on his face, taking the lead.

Felix walked past with Dani’s arm in his. He winked at Wolfgang and patted his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Wolfgang said before Felix could open his mouth.

“As you wish, My Lord,” Felix drawled with a roll of his eyes. Dani laughed. They headed to the table with the booze again.

Kala watched the exchange, unable to suppress her own laugh, even though she’d tried to go for a disapproving-girlfriend sort of look. He led her into a foxtrot on the center of the dance floor, his steps meticulously and steady, hers gliding along as she pulled from their shared knowledge of this dance. It seemed like such a formal way to dance, but Wolfgang’s old-fashioned-ness was quite endearing.

“For you, _Schatz_ ,” Wolfgang whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

She let the kiss linger until the next verse of the song was over. “What is it called?”

“ _Das Beste_ ,” he told her. “The best.”

She twirled along the floor with Wolfgang smiling down at her, feeling like the happiest woman in the world as the lyrics of the song translated in her mind.

_Du hast es wieder mal geschafft/ Again you have managed_

_Mir den Atem zu rauben/ To take my breath away_

_Wenn du neben mir liegst/ When you are lying next to me_

_Dann kann ich es kaum glauben/ It’s hard to believe_

_Dass jemand wie ich/ That somebody like me_

_So was Schönes wie dich verdient hat/ Deserves something as beautiful as you_

*

Capheus’ lively energy was infectious. He and Jela were dancing to _Jai Ho_ , following Kala’s instructions as she and her sister tried to teach everyone the series of steps they’d learned in their childhood. Zakia couldn’t tell if it was the multiplicity of the Cluster’s emotions rubbing off on each other, or if it was just Capheus himself, lighting up the room with that boisterous, carefree laugh, nearly tripping over his own foot as he waved his arms in pale imitation to Kala’s practiced moves.

It was the first time Zakia had met his Cluster — Jela’s first time, too — but the others in this room evidently knew a lot more about them.

Normally, Zakia would have been unnerved by the hidden nature of his Cluster’s presence, the fact that she was always visible to them through Capheus when she couldn’t investigate them in the same way in return. But everyone had been more than welcoming to her since she, Capheus, Shiro, and Jela had arrived two days ago, looking for a chance to see the city before they attended the wedding. Nomi and Amanita had shown them around the coast, and around Lilac Inn, where they worked.

And the day before, Zakia had found herself chatting away with the couple for hours inside their second-hand bookstore. Despite her earlier reserves, by the end of the evening, they were speaking to each other with the same ease she had when she talked to Capheus. Perhaps the fact that Nomi and Amanita were connected to Capheus in the Sensate way had given them a familiarity detectable by Sapiens as well as Sensates.

“Nomi says he has a way of making people laugh,” Teagan said, stopping to observe.

 _He certainly did_. “It’s crazy how well they know each other.”

“You’re telling me.” Teagan laughed. “A few months ago I had no idea about any of this. About Nomi was going through. And I knew nothing about her Cluster, but they all knew me. Did you know, Lito gave me a bear hug when he came by a couple weeks ago — it was the first time I saw him, ever — and I _freaked_.”

“I can imagine.”

“I wish they’d given me a warning. But it’s nice, you know, getting to know them all.”

Zakia turned back to watch Capheus, who had started a duo routine of some sort with Felix, stepping around in crisscrossing formations as they held hands. “It certainly is.”

They walked off and found seats by a high table to observe the crowd of Sensates and Sapiens gathered for impromptu dance lessons. Teagan observed them in silence for a few moments, fidgeting with her hands. Finally, she looked up. “Zakia, can I ask you a question?” She paused before she continued. “And – and I know it’s personal, so you don’t have to tell me, but I’m just curious – what’s it like?”

“What’s it like to date a Sensate, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Teagan smiled, relieved.

“Most of the time it’s not so different than dating someone like us.” Zakia remembered the men and women she’d dated before — all Sapiens, as far as she knew. Even if one of them were a hidden Sensate, Zakia doubted it would have made a difference in how she felt. She would have felt the same way. “But occasionally Capheus talks to invisible people.”

“Nomi does that! More often these days, since I know what to look for.”

“I think I’m getting better at guessing who he might be talking to,” Zakia said.

Teagan looked at the dance floor again. Most of the Cluster was there with Kala, but Capheus caught her eye and smiled. “I still have a hard time remembering all of them. And now Amanita’s in on it, too.”

“Well.” Zakia saw Daya and Dani whisper something to each other in the crowd. They giggled, then approached Bug, asking if he wanted to dance, to which he nodded like an enthusiastic child. “You’re not alone. You have quite a few of us.”

“I’m glad they invited you all.”

Capheus skipped over, humming to himself as _Flashlight_ began to play on the stereo. Zakia beamed — she’d been introducing him to some of her favorite pop music, and he’d grown particularly fond of this song. He held a tray with three glasses of ginger ale in hand and stopped in front of the ladies. “Zakia.” He handed her a glass. Then, with a big grin, he turned to Teagan. “Baby sister. Here you go.”

Teagan accepted the glass. “Oh God, why do you call me that?”

He sat down on her other side. “You’re part of the extended family, no?”

“Is that what you’ve been calling Daya this whole time, too?”

Zakia laughed. “Did you really?”

“I think that’s why she’s avoiding him,” Teagan stage-whispered.

“Daya’s avoiding me?” he asked.

Capheus knew Teagan was joking, but he played along to humor Zakia. He liked seeing her laugh, the exasperated, pitying-but-fond kind of laugh she’d do when she thought he was missing the joke. Just a few minutes ago Daya was trying to correct his arm posture, and she’d rolled her eyes when he’d called her baby sister, but she didn’t tell him to stop. He’d insisted that, since the Cluster was all part of each other in some ways, he considered her an honorary younger sibling. The protective instinct was shared, after all. Having Kiira back into his life only made it more intense.

At the thought of his biological baby sister, Capheus reached out to Kiira in their shared mind, thinking about The Candlelight Club. Kiira had hunted down the secret location of the elusive club in time for New Year’s Eve and asked Arabel, the cute Scottish girl in her lab, to go as her date. Capheus knew for a fact that it was three in the morning in London right now. He’d detected a few hints of Kiira’s presence — the feeling of noses touching before a kiss, a hand running down her shimmery black gown, a quickening of her heart — before Kiira caught him at it. Then he found himself back in San Francisco with nothing left of his findings except for Kiira’s voice in his head, telling him to please stop mind-snooping for the rest of the evening.

Zakia was looking at him when he let his consciousness drift into the ballroom again. Teagan, too, stared, her face blank for a second before she jolted back with an “oh!”.

“Were you checking on Kiira again?” Zakia asked.

“It’s a long time past midnight. She should have been home already.”

“What, on New Year’s Eve?” Teagan pointed out, exchanging a look with Zakia.

“But –”

“ _No buts_ ,” Zakia insisted, standing up. “Come on, Capheus, she’s an adult.”

“But –”

“Let’s go dance,” she cut him off. He looked to Teagan for help, but she shrugged, mouthed _you’re on your own_ , and went to find Nomi. And that was the end of that discussion.

The next song, _Be Still My Child_ , was a favorite of his. He told her this as they swayed to the a cappella rhythm, the conversation about Kiira momentarily forgotten (until he’d check on her again the next morning and find her smiling in front of the mirror, wiping lipstick marks off her cheeks and mouth and neck). Zakia turned to the speakers and frowned as they continued to slow dance.

_She said these days haven’t been so happy_

_Haven't had much peace of mind_

_Now I know that I should be praying_

_But I have haven’t had time_

“I didn’t know you prayed,” Zakia said finally.

“Not always. Only when I feel like it might help.”

“Do you believe in God, then?”

He stopped dancing as he considered his answer. “I believe there are things in this world I cannot explain. Things that no one can yet explain. Some things, we might never find the answer to until after our lifetime.”

“And you believe God is one of these things?”

“Possibly.” He smiled. “I believe there is a powerful being out in the universe somewhere. A good spirit. A magical spirit who can help. It has the potential to be true, and that makes me feel better. But these things are better left as mysteries.”

Zakia looked at Capheus, at the way he relaxed when he talked about inexplicable things. Was this how he felt when he was reborn as a Sensate? Zakia couldn’t imagine being calm, should she ever find herself seeing strangers appearing out of nowhere, experiencing feelings and sensations that were not hers. She would have liked to get to the bottom of this. Most likely, she would have searched for any information she could get her hands on in an attempt to pin these unexpected events to an explanation her mind could conceive, formulating conclusions on the evidence she deemed authentic.

But there was beauty in not knowing, merit in being taught. Zakia had spent most of her time trying to inform herself as much as she could. She’d devoted her career to searching for truths. Sometimes, she’d come to realize, the truth revealed itself in elusive ways, and to reach the correct conclusion would require a suspension of disbelief and a lot of faith in people who were trying to tell you the most unlikely of answers. Like the existence of Sensates in a world with too many people trying to conceal the very fact, for one.

“What are you thinking?” Capheus asked.

“I think you might be right,” Zakia said. They resumed the dance, moving slower like this realization had weighed her down.

“About what?”

“About God, some kind of divine force, or… or _magic_ ,” she added with a chuckle. “I mean, if magicians, _actual_ magicians, were trying to hide from us for reasons I’m not yet aware of, we really wouldn’t have a way of knowing they existed. Not unless one of them told us and showed us a few tricks.”

He laughed. “Are you calling me a magician?”

“You’re certainly unlike anyone I’d met in the past.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The song switched again, and Zakia was surprised to recognize the opening score of _What’s Up_. She’d spent most of the evening investigating the origins of the songs she couldn’t recognize, which, considering the diversity of the guests, was a vast majority. The people around the room — the Sensates, in particular — stopped what they were doing and exchanged what seemed like an insider joke, all smiling and nodding and winking.

Capheus beamed, giving Sun a nod before turning back to Zakia. “Ahh! I love this song!”

“You like _4 Non Blondes_?”

“It’s a special song for us,” he explained. “It’s the first time we all connected, though we didn’t know at the time.”

“You all sang along?” Zakia tried to imagine what that must have been like, eight people bursting into song at the same time around the world. “Like, a radio appeared inside your head? You all just… let it happen?”

“Sometimes songs resurface in your memory for no reason.”

“That’s true,” she conceded.

“But we all got the urge to sing this song. I didn’t know where the urge came from. I was driving back the Van Damn by myself, and I had this feeling that other people wanted me to sing along, these strangers I didn’t know. So I did. I believed they felt happier that I did. It was the best feeling.”

Zakia imagined Capheus belting out the tune with the window open by the driver’s seat, his head swaying from side to side, and she understood how he enjoyed it so much. It was a moment that was both shared and personal, both universal and close to the heart. “And now it’s your song?” she asked.

“Now it’s _our_ song.” He gestured to the whole room. “All of us.”

*

For years, Hernando had associated New Year’s Eve with a reminder of the ephemerality of life. He had opted out of celebrating and chosen to visit his parents at their graves every year, to remind himself of what he had no longer had. This day was not a symbol of new beginnings, but an anniversary of loss.

Though in the past year, many changes had happened in Hernando’s life, a life which had become intertwined with the lives of Dani and Lito and, subsequently, the lives of Lito’s Cluster. In a few months’ time, Hernando had found himself with more family than he knew what to do with and landed himself in more danger than he could make sense of, even in retrospect. The most unexpected part of it all was that despite nearly being killed countless times, this was one of the best years of his life.

It seemed only fitting that this December 31st was the day new traditions joined the old.

Lito, on the other hand, had been worried Hernando wouldn’t be down to celebrating. He spent the wedding ceremony checking in on Hernando’s expressions. Nothing looked to be amiss, no expressions hidden judging by the lack of twitching in his facial muscles. Hernando didn’t look sad, just contemplative.

They had left Mexico City at noon after they’d spent the morning at Hernando’s parents’ grave, where he had filled them in on the Sensate war situation, and the three of them were considering relocating to Los Angeles. The Academia de Artes had found a new lecturer in Hernando’s absence, but Hernando had landed himself a couple interviews at art schools in the LA area, most of which would take place in early January.

“I worry I may not be able to read you as well as you read me, Lito,” Hernando said, waving a glass of cocktail shrimp under his nose. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about you.”

Hernando set the glass down on the high table and pulled up a stool. “I’m okay, Lito.”

“You _can_ read my mind,” he teased.

“I know you’re worried, baby. Really, I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

Hernando nodded, his glasses sliding down his nose a little. “This morning… I think I’ve made peace with it all. It doesn’t change what happened, but this wedding gave new years a double meaning.”

Lito reached across the table to push the glasses back up his nose. “You don’t mind?”

“It’s good. It’s better this way, actually. It’s… it’s bittersweet. Poetic, almost.”

“There’s the Hernando I know.” Lito grinned.

Hernando smiled, a cheeky smile. “The Lito I know would still be on the dance floor. So what happened there?”

“I think I danced too much.” Lito cringed.

“Already?” Dani came over from where she was hanging out with Felix and snatched the glass of shrimp from the table. She dipped one in the generous load of hot sauce inside the glass before tasting it. “Oh my God, this is the best shrimp I’ve ever had –” she dipped another one – “here. Try it.”

Before Lito could say anything else, she had shoved a shrimp into his mouth. And fuck, she was right. Lito tried to say it was good, but the statement came out like a grumble.

Hernando tutted his tongue and wiped a bit of extra sauce off the corner of Lito lips with his thumb. “That dance-off was vicious. Want to try something slower?”

The music playing now, though, was far from slow, so they decided to wait. Kala and Jela and Amanita’s dads were dancing it out to _Handclap_ , and pretty soon the newlyweds and all the parents were in on it, moving in a circle like it was some kind of campfire dance.

“Even Estella has more energy than you, Lito,” Dani teased.

“ _Dani,_ ” Lito whined.

“It could be the alcohol,” Hernando added, nodding at the bar. “You sure you don’t want a tequila cubed to get you pumped?”

Great. Lito's family was ganging up on him again, and hi’s own Cluster was too busy having fun to step in to his rescue.

“I want tonight to be memorable, Hernando.” Lito improvised, grabbing his partner by the tie. “Not forgotten.”

Dani patted him on the shoulder as the song switched to _Don’t Stop Believing._ “Nice save.”

A grinning Felix waltzed over to Dani, following the rhythm of the song, and held out his hand. “Wanna go grab more shots?”

“‘Course. We need to get you drunk.” She went with him, but not before turning back to blow her boys a kiss.

Hernando frowned at Dani’s retreating figure. “You think we should stop them?”

Lito examined the way Felix was walking. His footsteps were fairly even, and he could move in a straight line. _For now_. “For Felix’s sake, maybe.”

But before they could go after them, Bug and Jela danced their ways over, playing air guitars with dramatic bobs of their head. They were lip-synching to the lyrics, too, and they stopped in front of Lito before they struck an imaginary chord. Another challenge Lito couldn’t back away from. This night was going to be the death of him.

“Yo, Lito Rodríguez, you need backup?”

Diego passed his glass of martini to Will and came over. He had insisted on calling Lito by his full name — only him, not the other guests. Apparently, that was the name he knew Lito by, and he insisted it was hard to drop the habit.

If María were here, she would have gotten in on this joke, too. Lucky she was on vacation in Australia with Andy — Nomi had extended the wedding invitation to them, but they’d vowed that if they were to emerge from the BPO fiasco alive, they’d go spend New Year’s Eve on the _STS Leeuwin II_ , sailing from the other side of the planet. So off they went.

Lito shrugged and began his own air guitar retaliation, stepping forward, forcing Bug and Jela back a few steps. Diego assumed his position next to Lito. Soon they were on the dance floor again, mouthing the lyrics, shaking their heads wildly until they could see stars.

And then Diego had guitar-ed his way over to Will, who responded by challenging Wolfgang with the same moves, and what started as a simple battle of the air guitars became a tag game. Riley turned the speakers up higher while Gunnar, somehow, got his hands on a real electric guitar. He improvised his chords as he grinned at his daughter, who was shaking her head exasperatedly, unable to stop laughing.

Those in the audience began facing off one another, not wanting to be excluded from this silly game. Somewhere in the middle of the song, Hernando, too, had found himself entangled in the festivities as he faced off against Sun, his pursuit of Dani and Felix temporarily forgotten — but he imagined these two would be in the midst of the chaos. His glasses slid from his nose, and twice he had to jerk his head back to stop them from falling to the ground, to Sun’s amusement.

So Hernando was relieved when the song stopped, and people laughed it off before retreating from the dance floor once more. The next song was one he wanted to share with Lito. He wouldn’t miss it even if his limbs were already growing sore from all the dancing.

By the opening scores of _Tu Amor Me Hace Bien_ , Lito led Hernando to the center of the dance floor again. Felix was dancing with Dani nearby. Lito raised an eyebrow, impressed, when Felix pulled Dani back promptly after she did a perfect spin, catching her by the small of her back with a suave wink.

“When did Felix learn to salsa?” Hernando asked.

“Wolfgang says he’s been taking lessons,” Lito said breathily, leading Hernando into one of their usual routines as the song fell into his favorite verse.

_Porque el amor cuando es verdad sale del alma/ Because when love is true_

_Nos aturde los sentidos/ It comes from the soul_

_Y de pronto descubrimos que la piel/ It stuns us, the senses_

_Se enciende en llamas/ And suddenly we discover that the skin is in flames_

Hernando raised an eyebrow. “Has he?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I’m protective,” Hernando amended. “Not jealous. And don’t act like you don’t feel the same way — Sun told me how you lectured Felix on the plane ride to Beijing.”

 _Ay_. Just when Lito thought his Cluster was off his case about that confrontation. “I did what I had to. He looked like he needed advice.”

“Advice?” Hernando nudged up his glasses, regarding Lito with wide eyes.

“He needed a talking-to!”

Hernando cocked his head back and looked at Felix again. Felix was pulling Dani closer, so close his tie could graze her skin at her plunging neckline, and the crinkle in Dani’s eyes told Hernando she was pleased he was taking the initiative. She was wearing a yellow dress with halter straps and an exposed back, and the chiffon skirt flowed as she twirled. Felix’s tie was the same color, and somehow it didn’t feel pre-arranged. More like a happy coincidence.

“He’s still trying. Even after you gave him a death threat.”

“It was not a death threat!” Lito protested.

“Really? _‘What are your intentions with Dani?’_ ,” Hernando imitated in an El Caído voice, grumbling the words with a menacing scowl.

“It was a simple question.”

But the real threat of a question, Hernando knew, was embedded in the delivery, not in the words themselves. And if anyone could make a “simple question” sound deadly, it would be the man who used to play angst-driven assassins. “What was his answer?”

“I know Felix liked her as more than a friend, okay? I _know_. He – he flirted with her on the first night!”

Hernando pondered the answer as _Como Fue_ came on next, the passionate beats of the salsa fading into a slow, jazzy tune. “ _Likes_ ,” he amended, nodding at the two. “And yes, I remember. I almost felt bad for him.”

Lito remembered how _he_ was on Felix’s first night at their safe house. If it weren’t for the fact that Wolfgang was still captured, Felix would have earned himself a talking-to long before the flight to Beijing.

“Rejection can be good for him.” Lito pulled him close. They had both shed their suit jackets at some point in this evening. Right now, they could feel the heat rolling off of each other’s bodies like gentle flames.

“Now you’re just cruel,” Hernando whispered, his breath tickling Lito’s ear.

“So what if I am?” Lito whispered back.

With a devilish grin, Hernando moved his hand away from Lito’s waist to touch his neck, resting his thumb underneath his chin. “You’re wicked.”

Upon the touch, the hair stood up on Lito’s arms, and a tingle shot through his spine, urging him to step closer. Hernando regarded him with a naughty glint in his eye, delightful in his knowing curiosity. Lito swallowed, his lust palpable. At the moment, Lito thought, giving in to this gravitational pull, Hernando was the wicked one.

The last time Lito and Hernando had danced like this was on his birthday more than a year past. Lito missed the feeling of dancing with Hernando, united in body and mind under the rhythm. These days Lito couldn’t make as much time for his partner as he’d liked — _Iberian Dreams_ had just wrapped before Christmas, but with January came the new responsibilities of post-production. And, if he was lucky, more auditions.

But tonight? There was no one to stop them.

The song ended as if sensing his needs. “Let’s get out of here,” Lito said.

Hernando took his hand, scanning the dance floor. “What about Dani?”

Already, she was looking over from where she and Felix were dancing across the room. She shot them a “don’t you fucking dare interrupt my moment” glare before she winked and mouthed _go for it_. That seemed to have made the decision for them.

“Dani can take care of herself,” Nomi said. She’d snuck up behind them, having picked up Lito’s thought, with their suit jackets in hand, which they took. “Go. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on her.” Amanita’s smirk was impish as she laced her arm around her new wife.

Somehow, Lito suspected Amanita would jump at the chance to play matchmaker. She’d march Felix and Dani to somewhere private before he could say “tell them to behave”. But then Hernando’s hand found Lito’s back and pinched him lightly, and Lito’s skin tingled at the temptation of his partner’s touch, and he couldn’t say much of anything else.

*

“You’ve learned how to dance,” Dani observed.

Felix could feel Lito and Hernando’s gaze burning a fucking crisp on the back of his head. He was surprised, frankly, that Lito didn’t pull him off to have another “talk” earlier this evening, but the scrutiny was worse. So much worse.

“Please. I always knew how to dance.” Felix bragged, hoping it sounded convincingly unconvincing. He didn’t wanna sound scared, but the stares were giving him the willies. “But I may have, uh, perfected my professional skills.”

Felix was taking the lead this time. Luckily, the salsa had come on before he could be bullied into taking another shot. He wanted to remember this dance, and he was close to getting fucking drunk. The last thing he needed was to stumble over his feet again. He stepped forward, then back, then pulled himself away, then drew her close again — a rehearsed routine, one he’d perfected with Mariana over the last couple months.

Dani rolled her eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were taking lessons.”

“Well.” He gestured to himself. “Surprise?”

“You went behind my back,” she quipped. “I feel betrayed.”

“And yet, here you are. Dancing. With me.”

“Mm.” Her mock-angry expression faded into a sly grin. He guided her into a twirl, then pulled her back. “I like to keep my enemies close.”

There was something playfully ominous about the way Dani said this. Felix felt like she was onto something, something evil, something sinister. And he was willingly giving in. She was killing him tonight, slowly by slowly. Plus, he was convinced Dani was flirting with him. The thought made his stomach clench like he’d downed half a bottle of Stolichnaya. _She_ was flirting with _him_. _Dani_. Flirting with _him_.

It wasn’t just the way she’d winked at him when they’d sat next to each other before the ceremony started, or the way she’d _aww_ -ed and leaned on his shoulder when Nomi and Amanita made their vows, _or_ when he’d gotten up to head to the ballroom, and she’d grabbed him back by the knot on his tie, insisting on straightening it, her fingers brushing against the collar of his freshly ironed shirt.

No. It was when she’d whispered _I missed you, silly_ as they'd gone to grab their first cocktail from the bar, the way the tip of her nose touched the side of his cheek and lingered for a few blissful seconds, that he realized he was still smitten, smitten beyond hope. Except this time, she may have been feeling the same.

Lito and Hernando were still staring at them when the song changed into something slower. Dani’s eyes brightened, and she pulled him closer. He hadn’t paid attention to his moves for the rest of the salsa — he’d been staring at her, and thinking, and crushing hard — but he assumed everything went fine. She would’ve teased him if it hadn’t.

“I haven’t learned how to slow dance,” he said before he realized he was saying it out loud. He had somehow stupidly believed they’d be doing salsa dance for most of the night. _Stupid_.

“It’s not that hard,” she told him. “Easier than salsa. Here.” She lowered his arm around her waist a little. “I’ll guide us. All you gotta do is stay close.”

And stay close, he did. Lito was shooting daggers with his eyes now, but Felix was enjoying himself, enjoying the way his tie was almost brushing against her skin. He forced his eyes back up from her plunging neckline before she could catch him staring. She caught him anyway, but all she did was wink.

She was wearing her gardenia perfume, the one he liked, and he knew she knew he liked it. He’d told her on his third day at the London safe house when he was still hopelessly clinging to the idea that she’d flirt back. And her dress was lemon yellow tonight, his favorite color, the same color as his tie. It made her glow like she was the fucking sun, and he was the Earth, or Mars, or Jupiter, or whatever, orbiting around her –

Fuck. He was writing poetry in his head. Maybe he was already drunk.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Felix. Should I be concerned?”

“I’m alright,” he mumbled. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You’re wearing yellow,” he stated bluntly, pausing in his steps. “It’s my favorite.”

 _Stupid_. Where the fuck did all his courage go? The courage that gave him a better pick-up line? The courage he had when he used to try and pick up the hottest girls from the club, or when he flirted with Dani back in London on his first night there?

Maybe he only had courage when he knew he had no chance.

But Dani smiled at his stupid statement, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She smiled in the way she did when he’d promised he’d call as soon as she landed, the day they said goodbye. The music faded then, and all Felix could hear was her voice. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“You, uh, trying out a new style?”

“You could say.” She looked down at her billowing skirt. “I can see why you like it.”

Hernando had remarked, when Dani had tried on the dress this morning, that yellow was a color that caught attention, though not in the dangerously enticing way red would. Red was passionate with a hint of secrecy, provocative like a dagger with a jeweled sheath. But yellow, yellow was all infectious in its cheerfulness, unapologetically dazzling.

More than that, yellow was the color that made her smile because it reminded her of Felix.

“It suits you,” he told her.

Her boys were looking over in their direction again. Lito was frowning at how close she and Felix were standing like he was a disapproving papá. She had got to put an end to this, she thought, throwing him a glare.

Fortunately, Hernando seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Lito was getting all hot and bothered by Hernando’s touch. Nomi and Amanita had jumped to Dani’s rescue, too, shooing them off. Not that Lito looked like he needed much convincing.

“It’s now or never, babe,” Amanita whispered to Dani when she passed by.

The next song started, a German song. Dani tilted her head, trying to work out if it was something she knew. It wasn’t. “Did Wolfgang pick this one?” she asked.

“I did.” Felix was guiding the dance now. He was a quick study. A good improviser, once he got over his nerves, once Lito left them in peace. “It’s for you.”

Clearly, he had been thinking ahead. He’d practiced salsa behind her back to give her a surprise, and he’d chosen a song for her. She could tell it was a love song. He was doing all these sweet, romantic things she’d expect to see in romcoms, things Dani herself had pretended to swoon over when she was playing the part of a love interest on a movie set. This was the first time anyone had done this for _her_.

“What’s it called?”

“ _F_ ȕ _r immer und dich_ ,” he whispered. “Forever and you.”

“Romantic,” she teased, grabbing his tie, pulling him close. Too close. Her heart was beating fast. If she were any closer, he’d feel the heartbeats echoing off her, she was sure.

“Do you… do you like it?”

She nodded. The words to the song sounded like a confession, one she didn’t need to know the language to understand.

_Ich seh’ für Dich und ich hör’ für Dich/ I see for you and I hear for you_

_Ich lüge und ich schwör’ für Dich/ I lie for you and I vow for you_

_Und ich, ich hol den blauen Mond für Dich/ And I, I fetch the blue moon for you_

_Alles für Dich, das ist alles für Dich/ Everything for you, this is all for you_

_Für immer und Dich/ Forever and you_

“Let’s get out of here.” She stopped dancing when the song was over, reaching for his hand.

He closed his hand around hers. “You tired of dancing?”

“No.” Dani was already leading him out. “Just tired of the view.”

Before they could get to the door, Felix let go of her and dashed to the bar, where he asked for a double tequila. She watched, wide-eyed, as he downed them with two rapid tosses of his head, one after the other.

“Woah.” He turned around and took a second to steady himself before he broke into his usual dopey grin. “That burned. Let’s go.”

He led her out, down the hall, until they reached a patio. They stepped out. Dani couldn’t see the stars from here, but lights blinked in the windows of the houses below. She didn’t know how late it was, but she bet those people were staying up, waiting to make wishes amidst the fireworks.

She wanted to stay here with him until the sun rose, the two of them hovering over a sea of yellow lights, Katy Perry’s _I Kissed a Girl_ playing faintly (and ironically) in the ballroom down the hall. The wind, though, had other ideas. She should’ve brought a cardigan.

“Here.” Felix took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders like a cape.

Dani wanted to protest. She wanted to point out he was gonna be the one who’d get a cold now, with his sheer white shirt and that yellow tie, which swayed a little in the wind. But the jacket was warm, so warm, and she was trying not to shiver –

She didn’t have time to berate herself for giving in before he kissed her.

Felix lost himself in the kiss, wondering why the fuck he waited so long.

He had downed a double tequila in the hopes that he’d get over himself and get over his fucking nerves and kiss her, kissed her _back_ , like he should have done months ago at the airport. The shots only made him tingly all over, like fireworks were going off inside his head. The zing of the alcohol made it hard to stand, but he’d found his balance as soon as his eyes found hers. And a burst of courage came over him (thank Conan!) and he’d led her out onto the patio and he’d given her his suit jacket and he’d kissed her.

Felix wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer when it was clear she wasn’t pulling away, tasting the cinnamon from the fireside cocktail they’d had earlier this evening as he traced his tongue along her lips. She leaned into him, their bodies pressing against each other, before she parted her mouth and kissed him back.

Dani didn’t know how much she longed for the kiss until it happened, until she was kissing Felix back with a fervor she had only imagined in her wildest dreams.

And maybe it _was_ a dream. This entire year had been a dream, filled with the unexpected, the twists and turns at every corner. Dani had gotten a taste of her old reality again after she had spent the summer in an alternate one. And, dangers and all, she’d found herself wishing, every time she woke before her boys, that she’d see Felix standing in the kitchen waiting for her with that full-faced grin, insisting he didn’t get drunk last night, not really.

“Firework’s going off,” he said when they finally pulled away.

She looked up at the sky, where bursts of blue and pink and purple crackled through the air before fading into the dark. “Did you make a wish?”

“Wouldn’t be fun if I told you, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she agreed. “The mystery’s the best part.”

Felix sniffled. Dani had forgotten she was wearing his jacket. Already, she’d gotten used to his heat, like it had been part of her all along. Before she could pull the jacket off and give it back, he laid his hands on her shoulder. “Don’t. You’ll catch a cold.”

“You’re the one who’s catching a cold,” she protested.

He considered this for a moment. “They won’t let me on a plane if I’m sick.”

They certainly wouldn’t. “Going so soon?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Haven’t booked the tickets.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I want you to stay for a while. I can show you around. The coast, LA, San Diego… I can show you where I grew up, too, but you don’t wanna go _there_ –”

“I’ll go wherever you take me.”

It sounded like the exact type of thing Felix would have said back when he used to flirt with her, but Dani could tell that this time, he was completely serious.

“Okay.”

She led him back inside by the hand. They walked down through another hall. She didn’t feel like going back to the ballroom just yet.

“How long do you want me to stay?” he asked, turning her around for another kiss.

“As long as you wish.”

*

Sun spent most of the evening slow-dancing and sampling the hors-d’oeuvres, engaged in quiet conversation with her Cluster and extended family. Kwon-Ho had found good company in Jela and Diego, but occasionally he’d drift over to her side and listen in on her conversation. She didn’t mind, so long as he didn’t embarrass her.

And he didn’t. For most of the evening, anyway. When the fireworks started, they had closed their eyes and made a wish, their hands laced together between them as they stood at the edge of the dance floor. It had only been over than a week since Sun had more or less confirmed they were “official”, but everyone in the ceremony, the parents included, assumed they were a married couple despite their lack of wedding bands.

Kwon-Ho took delight in the misunderstanding. Sun, on the other hand, wanted to punch a wall — not because the idea of marrying the detective wasn’t appealing, but because he was making no effort to correct anyone who made the wrong assumption.

“You are my plus-one. Not my husband,” she’d remind him every time, squeezing his hand hard enough to make him cringe.

“Not _yet_.”

He made the mistake of quipping back as they sat at the high tables sipping on lemonade, just as the song he’d picked for Sun in secret, _For You_ by Yim Jae Beum, started playing.

He dodged when she made a grab for his nose. It was a tactic she had, unfortunately, discovered when they had sparred in one of their non-dates. His nose was especially sensitive to pinching, as noses tended to be, and by trying to grab it, she could distract him enough to throw him down and claim another victory.

She stopped in the pursuit of her target when she realized what the song was. Crossing her arms, she studied him for a second, scowling. “You picked this song.”

“Ha! I’m glad you –” he took a step back when she made another attempt at catching his nose – “I’m glad you worked that out – _oww_! –” Sun had grabbed him by the tie, pulling him forward until their mouths were a mere inch away.

(Kwon-Ho was wearing a red tie with his black suit to match her outfit — a cutout black evening dress with red stripes lining the neckline and the exposed slivers of flesh on both sides of her waist. It was Lito’s idea, one he more or less talked her into with his incessant nagging. Sun hated to admit it suited them, this… _couple’s theme_.)

Before he could lean in for a kiss, she let go and stepped back, barely containing her smug expression when he looked disappointed. “You should be thankful I am not looking for a rematch on New Year’s Eve, _Detective_.”

“Thank you for sparing my life, _Miss Bak_.”

“Did someone put you up to this?”

“Well, Riley asked if I had a special request.”

“And _this_ is what you picked?”

Kwon-Ho grinned as he straightened himself again, that cheeky grin which made her fist curl. That rematch was sounding more and more tempting. “It’s a cute, romantic pick. I don’t see why not.”

He. Was. Impossible.

More impossible was the fact that, try as she might have done, she could not bring herself to feel genuinely mad. Mildly irritated? Perhaps. Tempted to set him straight? Definitely. But mostly, she was trying to shut out the over-the-top lyrics blasting through the speakers, and trying even harder not to laugh.

“Did you do this to embarrass me?” she managed to ask with a straight face.

“Why are you embarrassed? Hmm?”

Most of the guests had retired home at this point. A few people were still dancing — Riley and her dad, Will and Nomi, Amanita and Teagan — but most of the others who were still in the room were sitting around, talking and yawning and refusing to go to bed.

Before Sun could come up with something, anything, to say, to tell Kwon-Ho that _no, she was absolutely not embarrassed at all_ , he’d picked up on her flustered mood. He put a hand over his heart and began to lip-sync to the lyrics with a dramatic expression that would have made Lito proud. No amount of swatting him on the arm could get him to stop.

All she could do was roll her eyes, hoping the hotness in her cheek wasn’t visible.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, trying to kiss her on the cheek. Sensing her chance at payback, she turned to face him as he was closing in, her lips catching his. He froze for a second before he broke into an even bigger grin.

“You and Lito would get along quite well,” she said finally.

She was thankful Lito and Hernando had bailed out of this party early, or she imagined Lito would have played along, lip-syncing the words of this unbearably sappy love song along with Kwon-Ho. The mere thought of it made her groan internally. One man keen to embarrass her was bad enough. Two would be a trigger for disaster.

He kissed her again, and this time the kiss found its intended target on her cheekbone. His lips were a little chapped, and it tickled. “I don’t doubt that,” he whispered.

And then the next song played — _I Want You To Want Me_ , one of Riley’s additions — and, too late, Sun realized Riley had purposefully arranged the playlist that way so she could be embarrassed twice, harder the second time.

_I want you to want me._

_I need you to need me._

_I'd love you to love me._

_I'm beggin' you to beg me._

Sun crossed her arms and sighed, louder this time. Her eyes scanned the room until she noticed Riley on the other side talking to her dad.

 _Really?_ Sun thought.

Riley shrugged, unable to contain her smile. “It’s a catchy song. Brightens up the mood.”

“Certainly does,” Gunnar added, having grown used to Riley talking to visitors he couldn’t see by now.

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Kwon-Ho and the rest of her Cluster were ganging up on her. She wouldn’t be surprised if the guests were all in on this joke. It did seem a little coincidental that _everyone_ thought they were married, after all. Sun spent the rest of the song silently fuming, though if anyone had asked, she would have denied it.

Fortunately, the song after that was one Sun had picked. A relatively safe one. Kwon-Ho left his seat while she visited Riley, and now he came back with two chocolate cupcakes as a peace offering, which she accepted begrudgingly. They ate in silence as _Just Dance_ blasted through the speakers.

“I didn’t take you for a Lady Gaga fan.”

“I am not fans of artists so much as individual songs. And this one helps me prepare before I go into a fight.”

“You used to do underground fighting, didn’t you?”

Sun narrowed her eyes. Even now, Kwon-Ho surprised her with how much he knew about her now and then. “Did Nomi tell you this?”

“Capheus did.” He licked the crumbs off the wrapping paper. “He told me you were, uh, what was it? Ahh. ‘The Jean Claude of the Under-World’.”

“Sounds like Capheus.”

“He also told me you rescued him from thugs. Twice.”

Sun finished her own cupcake and folded the wrapping paper carefully before speaking. “We do have a propensity for finding ourselves in more danger than we have bargained for.”

“Even before the BPO trouble?” He flicked a piece of cupcake crumb off her cheek before she could dodge. It tickled, but she wouldn’t laugh to give him the satisfaction. She wouldn’t.

“Even before that. Sometimes I suspect our rebirth was timed based on our likelihood of survival at a given time. We found each other when we needed each other most, although we had never crossed paths before in our personal lives.”

“Huh.” He smirked. “So, more mysteries I can’t explain to my Lieutenant?”

“If you do not wish to know, we can talk about something else.”

She was trying to see how much weirdness he could take. Lucky for Kwon-Ho, he was pretty used to the Sensate thing by now, the invisible friends hovering over Sun’s shoulders, offering dating advice or the occasional rescue from life-threatening situations. These days, the former was much more likely.

Plus, as a cop, Kwon-Ho was programmed to expect the unexpected. It would take a lot more than calculated coincidences of fate to deter him from Sun. Really, nothing could deter him from Sun these days, not even threats to break his nose.

He hooked his hand around her chin and pulled her in for a quick kiss, chuckling as she opened her eyes, surprised, when their lips touched. “Try me.”

Sun wondered what it would take for Kwon-Ho to give up his endless attempts to woo her. As far as she was concerned, he had already gotten what he wanted (Sun, admitting she did not mind that he called her his girlfriend). And he was her date at a wedding where people revealed their opinions on their compatibility as a couple by assuming they were married. That should have given him enough satisfaction.

If it were any other dating situation, all these “sweet couple” things would have been deal-breakers. Sun was not one for romance, and Kwon-Ho knew that, but still, he showed up at her apartment on the day they were traveling to the airport holding a giant teddy bear that had a Sherlock-style deerstalker hat — the same type of bear someone had tried to steal at D-Cube Mall on Christmas Eve. She wondered if it was the same bear, if it was a confiscated item the station had no intent on keeping.

Of course, Jinju had been dropped off at her teacher’s house earlier that morning, and they had to leave Furlock Holmes behind (Nomi had insisted on naming him), too, before they left for the airport. But Sun had accepted the gift with a roll of her eyes and a chuckle before placing the bear on her couch to stand guard over her empty apartment.

While she was on the plane ride over to San Francisco, laying her head on Kwon-Ho’s shoulder as they snuggled up in their shared blanket to watch _The Age of Shadows_ , she could have sworn she heard Wolfgang think she was turning soft. She made sure to put an end to that train of thought by punching him on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug when he and Kala arrived at the airport.

“I am not feeling particularly inclined to talk about the past tonight,” she said after what must have been a long pause, purposefully evading the topic now that he showed interest.

“You wanna tell me about this song, then?”

She frowned, listening, before she realized her last pick was over. The song playing now was _Milele_ by Elani, a song Capheus had introduced to her.

“It’s in Swahili.”

“Ahh.” Kwon-Ho looked in Capheus’ direction. He was building a tower on a plate out of mini fruit tarts, and Zakia looked like she was giving him instructions on how to make it stay upright. “One of your languages?”

Sun nodded. “It’s a Kenyan love song about two forbidden lovers. The man is afraid he will not be accepted by his girlfriend’s family because he is poor. Her family is trying to set her up to marry someone else. A doctor.”

“Sounds awful.”

Kwon-Ho watched Sun carefully as he said this, trying to note any shifts in her expression. Ever since he’d divulged to Sun that he’d told his mom about her, she seemed nervous whenever the topic of meeting his family was brought up. And he didn’t blame her. Their romantic history wasn’t exactly the most peaceful, and part of it, he couldn’t even tell without making it sound like science fiction.

But Kwon-Ho knew his mom would like Sun. She would certainly have never set him up with a doctor, in any case. Having a doctor as a partner would enable his recklessness to grow. His mom would have wanted someone who could remind him he was flesh and bone, not someone who could patch him up.

“It is,” she agreed. “The story is sad. But I still like the music. I don’t know why.”

“It feels truthful,” he said, nodding along to the rather upbeat tune. It almost sounded like a happy song. He would have thought it was about something pleasant, had Sun not been there to inform him otherwise. “Like someone’s telling the story, but not in a way that sounds like the story’s over, you know?”

“That is a fair point.”

“What do the lyrics mean?” he asked.

“She is trying to convince her partner to meet her parents anyway. He is reluctant, but she insists she loves him, and only him.”

“Maybe their love will prevail.”

“Maybe. Or they can run away. Live somewhere new.”

“Or that,” he conceded. “But I hope they won’t have to. Leaving everything behind must be a difficult decision to make.”

Sun thought about Kala, who had left Mumbai behind to live in Paris with Wolfgang. Her parents were coming to terms with Wolfgang, but it had been a dramatic transition for Kala, one Sun and the rest of the Cluster had experienced whenever she was struck by bouts of homesickness by the tiniest reminders of India.

It was a challenge to unlearn all the little things one had acquired from living in one place while they adjusted to a new life. The change didn’t even have to be a physical relocation. Often, these days, Sun would find herself wandering to the place where her father’s office used to be, thinking she needed to remind him about an appointment with a new client before she remembered she was the one in charge now.

The new freedom that came with having a chance to start over was daunting, even for someone as (allegedly) fearless as Sun.

“It is a decision that needs to happen eventually,” she pointed out. “Otherwise there is no way to move forward, is there?”

“That’s true. I don’t think there’s a way around it.”

 _Maybe you need to take your own advice,_ Nomi thought. Sun couldn’t see where she was, but clearly, Nomi had known what was on Sun’s mind before she herself became aware. She sighed. Sometimes she could really use a break from the connections, though she didn’t think she could ever look at a Blocker again, let alone use one.

“I will meet your mother. That is, if you would like me to,” she said before she could find a reason to stop herself.

He smiled and reached for her hand, gently running a thumb through the scars on her knuckles that never entirely healed. Every so often she would punch something and break her skin again. Miki and Kala had given up on lecturing her about infections months ago.

“Of course I’d like you to,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “Is this Sunday a good time?”

Somehow, the fact that they had settled on a deadline made her feel relieved, rather than nervous. Perhaps a relative degree of certainty was good for her. “Yes,” she said. “Sunday sounds just fine.”

*

Will and Riley appreciated the quiet of the hours past midnight when most of the guests and their Cluster grew tired of the celebration. The perks of having cop- and DJ-hours was, their biological clocks were need-based, adaptable to whatever hours of the day they could stay awake. After midnight, they sat at the corner of the room, a blanket draped over them both, and spent time in comfortable silence watching the dwindling crowd.

To everyone’s surprise, Amanita’s parents and Nomi’s dad were all still here, and still quite awake. Perhaps they were trying to prove a point, staying up after their children grew tired for the mere sake of it, but Teagan, deep in a conversation with Sun, seemed determined to prove them wrong. Nomi and Amanita were still here, too, though they were feeding blueberries to each other, tossing and catching, thoroughly distracted.

“You okay?” Will asked.

Riley was watching them with a sad smile, remembering how she and Magnus had done the same romantic thing after her first wedding. The association was still there — weddings and the inevitability of loss — but her second wedding had made it easier for her to make peace with the first.

“I’m remembering,” Riley said.

Will put an arm around her and tucked the blanket around their shoulders tighter. He didn’t speak. He always knew when she needed the silence, but she had kept her mind open to communicate without words.

Nomi stopped in the middle of another blueberry fetch and turned to Riley with a tentative look. Riley smiled and shrugged. _Everything’s fine._

Riley didn’t remember the last time she had said this to herself. But now, with Will’s head against hers and the sound of fireworks in the distance, she realized it was true. Things had worked out in her life. For the past few months, she and Will had done a thorough job of picking up the pieces, revisiting before moving on.

Will breathed in Riley’s presence like he would never stop missing her, soothing himself with the memories she shared, glimpses of New Years spent in wood cabins, sheltered from the outside world. He lived through the celebrations in their mind. They brought a fondness to his heart as well as hers.

 _Hava Nagila_ played on the speakers, catching Grace’s attention in the middle of her conversation with Detective Mun. Grace found Nomi’s dad in a quiet discussion with Estella, and she approached him, asking if he wanted to dance. They conversed quietly while they danced, glancing affectionately at their children.

“They have more energy than us.” Riley chuckled.

Will turned and kissed her on the forehead, making her crinkle her nose. “Well, we did spend the first half of the evening in a dance battle.”

Riley leaned into him, using his shoulder as a substitute pillow. “I wish every New Year’s Eve could be like this.”

“With a wedding?”

“With all of us. Together.”

Will nodded. He would have liked that, too. He missed living with his Cluster and extended family, even though they were in the middle of a war, all of them united against the world at large. In the four months apart, Will had found himself looking back more than once while he wandered around his new apartment, expecting to see Nomi sitting across the room, typing away as she munched on dry cereal, or Capheus singing and dancing in the kitchen as he watched toast jump out from the toaster with glee.

Sometimes he’d talk to someone in his Cluster who was visiting and think they were physically here. Once he’d asked Sun if she could get the door when the doorbell rang during her visit. Diego had laughed for a good minute while Will stood in the doorway, confused as to how he got there physically instead of Sun.

 _Damn, Gorski,_ Diego had said, _I know you got your little seance issue all cleared up with the Lieutenant, but if he sees you pull this shit? You’re dead._

It was good to be back, to be home in Chicago doing the job he loved. And he knew it was good for Riley to come with him, to live someplace else like she always wanted. Gunnar was making the best out of their arrangement, too. His career was picking back up, so he had the freedom to travel while he played in concerts all over.

“We can make that a tradition,” Riley suggested. “Reuniting on every New Year’s Eve.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled.

The final song — _Life is Better With You_ — came on while everyone prepared to leave. But Riley pulled the blanket off them slowly and stood up before helping him do the same. “Do you want to share one last dance?”

Will chuckled. The timeliness of the last song, title and all, wasn’t lost on him. “Of course.”

They shared their last waltz, stepping and swaying in the center of the floor with no one else watching as Nomi and Amanita said goodbye to everyone: to their parents and Teagan, who wished them a happy wedding night; to Felix (who was blushing) and Dani (who was blushing harder) as they walked off, sharing a smile; to Detective Mun with his arm around Sun’s waist, pulling her snugly against him as they bid everyone goodnight.

Will and Riley said goodnight to Nomi and Amanita while they continued to dance. The newlyweds blew them kisses before they ran out the door hand-in-hand.

Riley looked around at the empty room. “Is that everyone?”

Will laughed. At some point between Lito and Hernando’s timely exit and Capheus and Zakia’s farewell right after the fireworks ended at midnight, Kala and Wolfgang had disappeared with nothing more than a fleeting thought of _goodnight, congratulations_ , in their shared mind. Will had a feeling where they must have gone.

But he and Riley stayed until the end, until the song drew to a close. He packed up their things, and she unplugged the music. They removed the props from underneath the doors and swung them shut until they heard a final _click_.

On their drive back to their hotel, Riley fiddled with the radio in their rental car, searching for something to listen to while they moved along the coast. She stopped when she stumbled upon _Your Arms Around Me_. Yet another timely coincidence — it was a song that echoed the words she and Will had said earlier about the realities of life, and love, and loss.

_From your mouth speaks your lovely voice_

_The softest words ever spoken_

_“_ _What’s broken can always be fixed_

_What’s fixed will always be broken”_

“Amen to that,” Will said.

Riley followed his thoughts and sang along in their shared mind, acknowledging the truth behind these words. Experience always left a scar, something that could fade but never disappear. It would become part of a person, though the person had a say as to how.

The next song was an unfamiliar one, and neither of them felt like trying to work out what it was, so she turned the radio off and shuffled through her iPod. Her hand lingered when she saw _Sæglópur_ on the list. She hadn’t listened to it since the day she fainted at her father’s concert, which, now that she thought about it, led to everything else.

But tonight was a night of leaving the past behind, and Riley felt like she should hear it one last time. She closed her eyes to listen as Will turned their car away from the coast, the blinking lights along the shore drifting from view. She found comfort in this song, a song about a child drowning, about the rescue which may or may not have come too late. She liked to believe the child had lived. When Lúna had been on the edge of passing, Riley had sung it in the hope that it would have given her a reason to stay.

The rescue _had_ come too late. For her daughter, at least, but Riley had spent a long time believing it was too late for both of them in different ways. She found solace this song, in knowing she wasn’t the only one who had brushed shoulders with death. The song spoke of her story through the eyes of another, a story that was both personal and distant.

Will listened to the same song with a frown. He found it difficult to find comfort in it, even though he listened with a mind that was not entirely his. It was the reality of the song that made him uneasy, the fact that it depicted a story which may as well have happened in the real world. He had worked on too many cases where hope had been crushed. The fall was always going to hurt more, the further he climbed.

The prospect of constantly weighing out the stakes, of deciding whether the pursuit would be worth the potential devastation, was daunting. On the field, Will’s decisions were split-second, instantaneous. But when he had time to think things over, there were always things he would have done differently.

To Will, this song was a reminder of the weight of his choices.

“You don’t have to bear it alone,” Riley said, catching his thought.

“You’re right.” He smiled. “Not anymore.”

“And bad choices happen a lot, and that’s okay,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. “Life is too unpredictable.”

Will sighed. “Yeah, it’s unpredictable, alright. It’s unpredictable, and it’s wild, and it catches you fucking unprepared.” He pulled to a stop in front of their hotel. “You know, back at the police academy, we used to say _always brace yourself for the unexpected._ ”

Riley pondered over these words as they got out of the car and walked down the cobblestone lane, shivering against the breeze. The streetlight was too dim for them to make out anything else besides the quaint structure that was their hotel. Some of the guests had apparently stayed up late to celebrate the beginning of the year. Light shone through their windows, warm and inviting. “So what do you do when the unexpected happens?”

“We try our best with what we know,” he said. “We work with what we have.”

In the dark, her hand found his. “ _Who_ we have.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who had followed this fic from the beginning, thank you so much for sticking by me for the entirety of this story.
> 
> To those of you who found it halfway, at a point where you realized there were no more chapters, and you were dying to find out what happened next, thank you so much for always bearing with me until my next update.
> 
> And to those of you who found it towards the end, I hope you enjoy finishing the full story, whether you binge all at once or savor each chapter.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for your support in any form. I appreciate each and every one of you :)
> 
> – Love, Sas (Nightar_Patronus)
> 
> * * *
> 
> P. S. I am not ready to say goodbye to this story, just as I am not ready to say goodbye to Sense8, so I am taking requests. Veracity ‘Verse will be expanded on in any (written) form that you may choose. I can write about stories (of OCs or canon characters, or both!) that took place before, during, or after Veracity’s timeline, so long as it fits what happens in this story. The specific details can be found on my endnotes in chapter 38. I can’t guarantee the prompts will be filled quickly, as real life is slowly starting to punish me for neglecting it completely while I immersed myself in this fic, but they will be filled eventually.
> 
> P. P. S. I will be editing my older chapters for the next few weeks, mainly things that were inconsistent (e.g. capitalization rules, like Sensate or cluster), because I couldn’t figure it out before, but I have now.
> 
> P. P. P. S. I’m active on tumblr @chaptersonetoinfinity, and I’m always down to chat about life, love, loss, or Sense8 feels. Or all of the above.


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